Come Undone
by Lady Wenham
Summary: Buffy makes a careless and unexpected move, resulting in Spike’s survival of the events of Chosen. Updated Ch 9.
1. Part One

**Summary**: Buffy makes a careless and unexpected move, resulting in Spike's survival of the events of _Chosen_. AU.

**Rating**: This part is PG-13 for language and violence – but the story is NC-17 overall. I will be posting a rated R version here at ff dot net. You can find the original version at my website or livejournal (links on my main author page).

**A/N**: I'll say this so that I don't upset anyone: I think my first scene here is very out-of-character for Buffy. When it comes down to it, I believe she would have done exactly what she did in _Chosen_ and respected Spike's choice to sacrifice himself. This story is merely an exploration of what might have happened if she had chosen differently.

* * *

_Part One – Choices_

Beneath the high school, the battle had reached a feverish pitch. The combined roar of the earth's trembling and the swath of sunbeams annihilating the enemy was practically deafening. Spike stood at the center of it all, his panicked expression slowly fading into something peaceful and accepting. The earth lurched violently, almost throwing Buffy and Faith to the ground. Spike, however, seemed to be held up by an unseen force and didn't so much as waver as the ground beneath his feet began to give way.

It took a moment for Buffy to truly understand what was happening: _Spike was going to die_. And he didn't seem the least bit upset about it. Though she had faced the same sort of sacrifice herself, she couldn't understand why he looked so peaceful. "You've done enough," she shouted over the roar of battle. "We need to get out of here!"

He started to argue with her, eyes flashing with fierce determination, but all she heard was Faith's panicked cry behind her. "Buffy, come on!" she called, trying to maintain her grip on the rock formation at the entrance of the Hellmouth.

Things began to move in slow motion. Before she realized what she was doing, Buffy closed her hand upon the fiery amulet, ripped it off of his neck, and pulled him out of the deadly beam of sunlight that glared down from above. With an indignant but weak roar, Spike melted bonelessly to the ground, panting as if he was in great pain.

"Help me!" she cried to Faith, who immediately grabbed Spike's other arm. Together they hefted his limp body up towards the Hellmouth entrance and out into the high school. The walls were screaming in protest, as if the very foundation beneath them was giving way.

"What the hell's happening?" shouted Faith. "All the guy did was shine a little solar flashlight down there."

Buffy ignored her as she urged them to go faster down the dust-filled hallway. "Blanket!" she exclaimed when they reached the doors. Letting go of Spike's arm, Faith retrieved a blanket that had been purposefully placed near the entryway and threw it over his head.

Cries of panic came from the school bus as the people inside gripped whatever they could to steady themselves against the furious tremor. Buffy felt a wave of relief wash over her when she caught sight of her sister, safe and sound. "Buffy, hurry up!" Dawn cried, whipping around so that she could run up the stairs of the bus.

Breathing laboriously from both the weight of Spike and from the noxious air around them, Buffy and Faith barely managed to get themselves and the unconscious vampire through the door before Principal Wood threw the bus into gear and began speeding away from the high school.

"Shit…" Faith whispered, her eyes on the horizon behind them. "The school just collapsed. And there goes The Java Chip. Damn it, that place had kick-ass lattes."

Giles looked pale and old as his eyes beheld the destruction. "It seems as if the damage is stopping there. That's certainly a relief. The whole city could easily have collapsed." There were several anxious cries from those who heard his words, but Giles ignored them. Turning back towards Principal Wood, he said, "Once we're certain the earthquake and any aftershocks have ended completely, we should double back and see if our work is indeed complete."

"Hold on a sec there," Faith argued animatedly. "You're talking about the city collapsing in on itself, and you want to go _back_? Are you fucking crazy, G?"

"If the topographic damage has ended, we should attempt to finish this now while the enemy is weakened," insisted Giles. "We'll drop off the wounded at the Summers' residence, but those who are well enough to go on will return to the battlefront. It may well turn out that there's nothing left to worry about, but if there is, we cannot afford to relent until our enemy is stamped out for good. Buffy, do you agree?"

"Sure. Whatever you say."

The truth was she hadn't heard a word he had said. Ignoring just about everything around her, Buffy had collapsed breathlessly in the aisle. The wound that had punctured her back all the way through her stomach flared painfully as Spike's limp but heavy form fell partially on top of her. She gripped him close nonetheless, willing to ignore the pain if it meant there was something solid pressed comfortingly against her. She couldn't decide if it was her that was shaking so violently or if the earthquake had yet to relent. A wobbly breath eased from her chest.

"You okay?" asked Dawn, leaning over her sister with wide eyes.

"Help me get him to the back of the bus," Buffy said, ignoring the question. Together they took hold of Spike's shrouded form and pulled him down the aisle towards the covered seats set aside for him. Tugging back the edges of a small tent made out of thick, dark blankets, they carefully lifted him onto the seat.

"What's wrong with him?" inquired Dawn when Buffy pulled the singed blanket away from his face. "He looks … dead."

Buffy knew that what her sister was suggesting was impossible, but the words hit her hard nonetheless. Spike was a vampire, of course; if he was truly dead, she wouldn't be looking at his corporeal body but at a small pile of dust. But seeing the way Spike's head lolled around with each bump and turn concerned her deeply. Dawn was right; he really _did_ look dead. Swallowing in hopes to wet her parched throat, Buffy gently pushed her sister back so that she could grip him by the shoulders. "Spike?" she said in the firmest voice she could muster, shaking him with nervous roughness.

Nothing happened at first, but eventually his eyes slowly peeled apart. Blinking as though in a daze, Spike drew in a wheezy, unneeded breath. The blue of his irises was completely eclipsed by his pupils as he gazed emptily back at them.

Despite his appearance, Buffy found herself sighing with relief. The fact that he had regained consciousness eased her mind, and she felt released to turn her attention to the others on the bus. Asking Dawn to stay with him, Buffy rose and started down the aisle, checking on injuries and counting heads. When she noticed a flash of red hair, she made her way over to check on Willow, who was barely conscious but seemed to be on the edge of a magical high that had her practically giddy. She appeared only slightly more aware of her surroundings than Spike, but she nevertheless wore a bright smile on her pale face. "Am I good or what?" she said with a wink.

Buffy didn't remember what she said in reply, but she doubted Willow would have heard her over the roar of the bus anyway. In the distance, Buffy caught sight of dust and debris flying in the bus's wake, but it didn't really register in her mind what had happened outside. One thing she did notice was that they were closing in on Revello Drive. The prospect of _home_ seemed almost ridiculous to her, as if she'd never expected to see it again. She glanced at Spike, knowing if it hadn't been for him, none of them would have even survived. She would have a lot to thank him for later on, when he had recovered.

Buffy was forced to grab onto the edge of a seat as Principal Wood hit the brakes and brought the bus to a complete stop in front of her house. Giles stood and began shouting orders as everyone started rushing towards the doors. Too exhausted to bother getting tangled in a crowd, Buffy moved aside so that everyone could file off in front of her. It was then that she felt Xander tapping her shoulder.

"You, uh, didn't see Anya, did you?" he managed, looking around the bus as if she might pop up from behind one of the seats unexpectedly.

Buffy followed his gaze, frowning as she realized Anya was no longer in their company. "Oh God, Xander…"

She said the words more for his benefit than anything else. Of course Anya was a great loss, and Buffy knew that down the road she would have the strength to care more. But at the moment, all she wanted to do was limp off the bus, curl into a ball, and sleep for several years. "Maybe Andrew knows something," she suggested hopefully. "He was with her, right?"

Xander looked slightly nauseated as he nodded, glaring down at Spike's vulnerable body lying in the seat next to them. Without another word, Xander unceremoniously gripped the unconscious vampire's arm and began toting him out of the bus towards the house.

"Buffy," began Giles as he made his way down the now-empty aisle towards her. "What caused this?"

"Caused what?" she replied weakly, collapsing into the seat that Spike had just vacated.

"The Hellmouth collapsed in on itself," he clarified, sounding duly impressed. "Well, at least partially – the bits surrounding the high school. I'm not certain a complete collapse would be beneficial to the topography of this county, to be perfectly honest. But what caused it?"

"Spike," she answered mechanically, not realizing until that moment that she still had the amulet gripped in her hand, its chain wrapped tightly around her dirty wrist. "This thing nearly killed him. I ripped it off of him before it could."

Giles regarded her silently for a moment before reaching out a hand. "May I?"

"Be my guest," she said, unwrapped the chain from her wrist and handing over the amulet indifferently.

Giles studied the markings on it curiously, holding it up to the sunlight, which was partially obscured by the dust still flying in the distance. The opaque jewel inside sparkled innocently as the glimpses of light hit it, but to Buffy's relief, the amulet showed no signs of launching into another brilliant lightshow like the one it had provided earlier. "I'd like to study this further, if that's all right."

"Sure," Buffy replied, her voice still on autopilot. She rose at last from the seat and slapped the thighs of her jeans to force out some of the dirt clinging to the denim.

"I wanted to let you know…" began Giles before she could slip past him. "That is … I wanted to tell you how very proud I am of you. Not just for today, but for the entire year. And for the record … you were right about Spike."

Buffy glanced up in surprise at his words.

"I still don't approve of his presence in our operation here," Giles clarified, "but his actions today at least prove that he's willing to sacrifice for the greater good. I daresay not many others would have done what he did. Perhaps he's come further along than I assumed."

"You should tell him that yourself," suggested Buffy. "It would probably mean a lot to him."

"And voluntarily associate with that brainless pillock?" Giles quipped, ripping his glasses off his head in indignation. "I think not."

Buffy smiled at his teasing tone, feeling a bit of the resentment she'd felt towards her former Watcher fade away. "I'm gonna head inside, if that's okay."

Returning the awkward smile, Giles nodded and turned. He wandered down the aisle in front of her, muttering something under his breath about the pity of Bilbo, a reference Buffy didn't come close to understanding. Holding an arm across her injured stomach, she fixed her eyes on the dust-filled horizon, wondering exactly how much or how little they had accomplished.

* * *

To be continued. 


	2. Part Two

_Part Two_

Spike was moved to the large bed in Buffy's room at her request. Now that Faith was healed up – considerably more so than Buffy at the moment – she felt justified in reclaiming her room. Having Spike there with her was an unconscious decision; she didn't even consider the possibility of sending him back down to his cot in the basement. Spike wavered in and out of consciousness and had yet to say anything, but Buffy felt confident of his recovery. After securing the curtains shut against the daylight, Buffy yawned widely and turned to thank Xander for helping her bring Spike upstairs. She frowned when she saw that he was no longer in the room, having slipped out without a word.

Buffy sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh and put her head in her hands. She knew she should probably go downstairs and help with the wounded, but she couldn't convince her legs to actually move. Responsibility was not attractive in the least to her exhausted mind. She knew that she was injured herself, though how badly was another question. She half-expected to keel over at any moment but couldn't seem to work up the energy to care. Turning towards Spike, she wondered if he had sustained any wounds. She attributed his fleeting responsiveness more to his ordeal with the amulet rather than to a physical injury, but she decided it couldn't hurt to make sure. Biting her lip in concentration, she carefully eased his arms out of his duster and pulled the grimy leather out from beneath him. He was silent until she arbitrarily placed a hand in the center of his chest. A small cry of painful protest came out of him then, and his eyes flew open. Though she muttered an apology, he didn't seem to hear her and fell back into the same unresponsive daze he'd been in since she'd pulled the amulet off of his neck.

Realizing he was indeed wounded, Buffy tugged the bottom of his t-shirt up, exposing his stomach and chest. She cried out in alarm at what she saw. The area of his chest where the amulet had rested was charred black. Burned was an understatement. It was as if his body had actually started the process of turning to ash but was stopped just in time. Blinking back tears, she pressed a fist against her mouth to fight back a sudden rush of nausea. She fully realized at that moment how close she'd come to losing him, but her exhausted mind refused to let her dwell on such upsetting thoughts. She had to get out of there. Covering the wound with his t-shirt once again, she stumbled to her feet and out of her bedroom as fast as she could, turning her thoughts toward finding him blood and bandages.

Downstairs, she found Giles in the middle of a meeting with the uninjured Slayers. Wondering why she hadn't been summoned to attend, Buffy listened half-heartedly as she poked through what was left in the medical supply box at the foot of the stairs.

"The earthquake is over, yes," Giles was saying, "but things still are very unsettled out there. I want you all to be ready to flee if necessary – another tremor could do this town in. I fear the Hellmouth might be in danger of collapsing in on itself completely."

Andrew's hand popped up in the air. "That's a bad thing? Wouldn't it be, I dunno, _helpful_ if it collapsed?"

"Seeing as we're standing on top of it right now, I'd hardly call the entire town plummeting into a deep chasm _helpful_ to our endeavors," Giles replied, seeming annoyed at Andrew's presence at such an important meeting.

"Shouldn't we maybe just leave town?" suggested Willow, who appeared to have gained a significant part of her strength back. "I mean, just until we're sure the aftershocks are over?" Several people around her nodded worriedly, but Giles shook his head.

"I understand your concern," he replied, "but you must take into consideration what might happen once the sun goes down. We can't be sure that the threat of The First's army is gone until we've looked further into the situation. Who knows what might happen if emergency crews arrive on the scene? We must be willing to sacrifice our safety to ensure theirs."

Buffy approached with a nod and said, "Giles is right. We don't know who might try to approach Sunnydale tonight after the quake – police, ambulances – there could even be media on the scene. We need to make sure the city is safe, or we could be sitting on the edge of a massacre."

"What do you mean _we_?" asked Faith incredulously. "You're not going anywhere like that, B."

"Why not?" Buffy argued, still upset that she wasn't asked to the meeting in the first place.

"Uh, maybe because of the gaping wound in your stomach?"

Buffy blinked down at her bloodstained shirt, suddenly feeling the pain she'd been ignoring, and she had to fight her body's urge to shrink and curl in on itself. Giles gripped her gently by the arm and led her towards the couch, where several girls had the courtesy to move aside so that she could sit. Glancing up briefly for permission, Giles lifted the edge of her blouse to reveal the wound. "Does this go all the way through?" he asked in disbelief. "Good heavens, why didn't you say something? You could be bleeding internally."

"That sounds like fun," Buffy managed, glancing wearily at the curious faces all around her. Couldn't they take a hint and get lost while she was getting her checkup?

"Willow, can you see what you can do about this?" requested Giles. "I don't trust the speed of her Slayer healing with the seriousness of this wound."

Willow approached obediently, nudging other people aside so that she could kneel in front of the couch. "Aren't you exhausted?" Buffy asked her.

Easing Buffy onto her side so that she could see the entry wound on her back, Willow shrugged and said, "Sorta running on fumes, but surprisingly good fumes. I'm okay."

Satisfied that Buffy was in good hands, Giles began giving out orders, naming Faith the leader. Buffy sat and watched in silence, not really knowing what to say or think. It felt strange to be surrounded by Slayers who had the potential to become every bit as strong as she was – even stranger that she was excluded from the new plan of action. A mere bystander on the sidelines of something big. She didn't expect to feel jealous, but an old twinge of rivalry borne from when she was originally introduced to Kendra and Faith was resurfacing. She couldn't even bring herself to say goodbye as the second front swept out of the door to return to the battlefield. She numbly watched the new Slayers file outside, toting _her_ weapons in their inexperienced hands. It didn't seem real somehow.

Willow returned from the kitchen and stooped in front of the couch with a shallow basin of water. She took a few dried leaves and crumpled them into the steaming hot water. "I kinda feel like Aragorn in the Houses of Healing," she said with a sheepish smile.

Buffy frowned, too tired to ask what Willow was talking about. Instead she leaned back on the couch, breathing in the sweet aroma of the leaves. "What is that stuff? It's nice."

"Nothing special," replied Willow. "It's mostly just to relax you and help with the pain while I work. You might get a little sleepy, but that's normal – so don't think you have to fight it or anything. Am I hurting you?"

Buffy shook her head, only vaguely aware that Willow's hand was pressing into her wound. She drifted on the edge of sleep for some time, seeing visions of sunbeams and fleeting sparks of light that danced just out of reach. Eventually Willow shook her patient gently, nudging Buffy out of her strange dream. She felt as if no time had passed at all, but the angle of the sun outside seemed to indicate otherwise. "All better now," Willow announced brightly, though she looked paler than when she'd started. "I'm gonna go see if the others need any help. Most of the wounded are already gone, though. Xander took Principal Wood and the other injured Potentials to a hospital out of town – except I guess they're not really Potentials anymore, huh? We'll have to think of another nickname for them."

"Spike," Buffy whispered, suddenly remembering that she'd left him upstairs unattended. "Will you check on him? He's up in my bedroom and hurt pretty badly. Burned on his chest by that amulet, I think."

"Oh. Sure." Willow didn't sound very happy at the prospect, but she picked up the basin of water as well as a few other supplies and went upstairs without complaint.

Now that the strange herb was gone, Buffy was able to blink the last bits of sleep from her eyes and attempt to wake up. As she sat up, she felt a tug of pain in her abdomen. It felt as though someone had been prodding around in her insides with a long, pointy stick. Buffy lifted her shirt and found neat bandages. She knew Willow had probably fixed her up just fine, regardless of the pain she was still feeling. With a self-indulgent groan, Buffy rose to her feet, intent on finding a glass of water.

Willow knocked tentatively on the bedroom door before she peeked her head in. "Spike?"

The shapeless form on the bed didn't move, but Willow thought she heard the slightest intake of breath from beneath the blankets. Sure enough, when she pulled back the cover from his face, his fully dilated eyes were blinking questioningly at her. "Buffy asked me to check up on you. She's recovering downstairs from a sword wound."

She watched him struggle for a moment with words, as if he was having trouble taking in enough breath to actually speak. "She okay?" he finally managed to rasp, his voice sounding as rough as a Turok-Han's. Still, the fact that he was communicating rationally was reassuring.

Willow set the basin of herbs on the night table beside Buffy's bed. "She's just fine. A little shaken, though, and pretty beat. Sorta hanging on by a thread like the rest of us."

Spike made a face. "Stinks."

Willow smiled at the herb she was crumbling into the water. "You'll get over it. Now let's see what's wrong with you. Can you sit up?"

Spike's eyes drifted shut drunkenly in response.

"Okay, maybe not. Are you wounded? Buffy said something about a burn."

"Chest. Hurts like a bitch."

Pulling back the covers fully, Willow lifted the corner of his t-shirt. Seeing for herself the extent of his injuries, she forced herself to take in a deep breath before she continued. Buffy had certainly underestimated his condition. Faced with the prospect of such an extensive healing session, Willow suddenly felt exhausted after all she had done that day. In fact, she was shocked she wasn't unconscious at the moment, but she couldn't leave anyone – not even Spike – in such a state overnight. His pupils seemed to grow even larger as the cold air in the room hit the burn, and the corners of his eyes began swimming with tears. No, she decided; she definitely needed to see to his wounds tonight. She was going to pay the price eventually for expending so much energy, but she'd worry about that later.

She noticed that Spike was shivering and thought the very notion strange. Could vampires feel the cold? His skin was clammy and even sweaty to the touch – neither of which seemed very vampiric at all. She vaguely remembered Angel's body reacting much the same way when he'd been poisoned several years back. While she didn't think Spike was poisoned, he was definitely ill. She wondered what exactly had happened down in the Hellmouth that could have caused such a reaction. She would have to get the entire story out of Buffy later.

"What do I do?" she whispered, wondering how she could heal and revive the dead flesh of a technically dead being.

There was the possibility that Spike's body could regenerate by itself, but the burned flesh seemed so beyond repair to her eyes that she worried it would heal incorrectly or possibly not at all. Finally she sank down onto her knees, placed her hands flat on the damaged part of his chest, and tried to ignore the sick feeling inching up her throat when Spike groaned in protest. She whispered a few words in Latin, and focused her mind on bringing regeneration to the damaged skin. She allowed a small amount of her life-force to seep through her hands into his body, feeling considerably weaker as she did so. But his skin felt warmer almost instantly, which encouraged her to continue. Eventually a soft rosy glow tinted the edges around the burn, which had started to peel.

"I'll take that as a good sign," she said decisively. "And wow, that was gross. I'm gonna go get you some blood, Spike. I think that'll help more than anything I could do."

"Thanks, Red," he managed, and to her ears, his rasping sounded slightly less pained. "Ask you a question first?"

"Sure," she said, leaning wearily on the bedpost.

"Is it … gone?"

Willow frowned and looked about the room. "Is what gone? The First? Well, we're not sure yet, but that amulet thingy you whipped out helped a ton. Even more than my nifty Slayer spell, you big showoff."

"Not what I meant," he said. To her surprise, he pushed himself up into what appeared to be a painful sitting position. His eyes were blank and cold as he stared back at her. "My soul. I feel … numb. Like something's missing. Is it gone, then?"

Willow's mouth fell open, and she took a step backwards before she knew what she was doing. "Uh … is this the part where I run and scream? Except, _hey_ – witch here – so there will be no funny business, got that?"

"Not gonna hurt you," said Spike in an even voice. "Just answer the question, all right?"

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Willow looked into his eyes, searching for the spark she'd seen there throughout the year. It was several minutes before she finally came to a conclusion.

* * *

To be continued. 

**A/N**: Two chapters, and I've already made two _Lord of the Rings_ references. Heh. I'm hopeless. ;)


	3. Part Three

_Part Three – Discoveries_

From her comfortable place on the couch, Buffy thought she heard someone rummaging around in the kitchen. A moment later, she couldn't help but smile when she saw Willow carrying a gallon of blood and a glass upstairs. The fact that Spike was ready to take some blood was a good sign that he was going to heal up just fine. She ran her fingers over her bandaged stomach and heaved a careful sigh of relief.

She understood what Spike had tried to do – she'd played the part of the sacrificial lamb herself, once upon a time. Part of her knew she should have let him finish what he'd started. Looking back, it seemed almost disrespectful that she'd denied him such a clear and selfless act of sacrifice, but she couldn't seem to convince herself that she'd made the wrong decision. She knew what she wanted, and losing Spike was not on that list. Happy to forgo responsibility for the moment, she tried not to think of what consequences her decision might have had. He was safe, and that's what mattered to her in the end.

Now came the question of what to do with him – not to mention their future relationship. Buffy squeezed her eyes shut against a wave of confusion, too tired to think of an answer. She didn't know what she wanted from Spike; besides, it wasn't as if he was actively pursuing her the way he used to. The cuddling was nice, but it was really beginning to look as though that was as far as either of them were willing to go. She'd thought more than once that if he'd shown any sign of wanting to go further, she would respond to his advances willingly, but he seemed so hesitant that she found herself backing off as well. One thing she did know – tonight he was going to sleep in her bed, and if he was healed up enough, she was going to be right there next to him. After that, she didn't know.

The familiar thump of Dawn's flip-flops sounded in the kitchen. Suddenly feeling lonesome, Buffy pressed a hand into her stomach for support and rose carefully from the couch. A wave of vertigo almost made her sit back down again, but she fought it.

Dawn looked about 12 years old when Buffy found her standing in front of the refrigerator with a blank expression. She felt a pang of guilt when she thought of how she'd been ignoring Dawn over the last few weeks. "Want me to fix you something?" asked Buffy.

Biting her lower lip, Dawn shut the refrigerator door without taking anything out. "No thanks. I don't think I could eat anything."

"Everything okay?"

Dawn shrugged indifferently as she fished a clean glass out of the dishwasher. "I've been talking to Andrew. He's not doing so well after what happened."

"Happened?" Buffy echoed in confusion.

"You know. Anya dying right in front of him?" Dawn replied coarsely as she poured herself a glass of water.

"Oh," said Buffy, her gaze falling to the scuffed kitchen floor. "I keep forgetting all that's happened. Everything's such a blur. It doesn't seem real, you know?"

Dawn looked for a moment like she was going to snap at her sister, but seemed to think better of it. Her shoulders drooped, as if the will to fight had suddenly left her. "Amanda didn't make it either," she added quietly.

Buffy blinked in surprise. She hadn't noticed Amanda's absence before then. All the speechifying in the world about noble sacrifice still didn't help the guilty feeling welling up in Buffy's chest. Sixteen was far too young to die; she should know.

"So many others, too," Dawn continued. Taking a deep breath, she set her glass on the kitchen island and stared intently at her sister. "I want to get out of here."

"We can't go anywhere tonight, Dawnie," said Buffy gently. "I don't think it's safe out there quite yet."

"No. I want to leave the Hellmouth for good. I'm sick of living like this."

"Oh…" Wincing in pain that was more than just physical, Buffy leaned heavily against the island facing her sister. "Yeah. That would be nice, wouldn't it?"

"There's a ton of other Slayers now," Dawn continued, fed by her sister's encouragement. "We could leave, and it would be okay for once."

Buffy was surprised at the seriousness in her sister's voice. "You're that unhappy here?"

"Aren't you? I mean think about it, Buffy. All we've known here has been tragedy and fighting. And I'm sick of seeing everyone I care about die."

"Can't argue with you there."

"Then we can leave?" Dawn asked hopefully.

"We'll see, Dawnie," said Buffy, running her fingers through her sister's long hair. "We still have a few responsibilities here, at least for tonight. Let's just take things one day at a time, and see what happens, okay?"

With a reluctant nod, Dawn smiled and said, "You sounded kinda like Mom just then."

"Did I?"

"Yeah. Promise you'll at least think about leaving?"

"I promise. I'll pinky swear, even," Buffy said, offering her little finger to her sister. As they hooked pinkies, Willow walked into the kitchen carrying an empty jug.

"How's Spike?" asked Buffy as she pulled Dawn into a one-armed hug.

"Better," Willow replied in an even tone as she began filling the teakettle with water. "He ate – wow, did he eat – and said he had enough strength afterwards to take a shower, which between you and me, he really needed. He's also super cranky, which tells me more than anything that he'll be fine."

Buffy smiled, and a warm feeling spread through her chest. "Thanks, Will. I wouldn't know what to do with him. And hey – I'm feeling better myself. That was some powerful mojo you worked there."

Willow either didn't hear her or chose not to answer. Looking as if she had something serious on her mind, she busied herself with pulling out a mug and dropping a tea bag into it. "I'm probably gonna turn in early," she said as she fished for honey in the cupboard. "I know the sun's still up, but I'm kinda pooped."

"Well, it's not like you did much today," Dawn teased. "You just riddled the planet with Slayers is all."

Willow smiled but didn't respond. The other two girls sensed she was deeply exhausted and left her alone. "I think I'm gonna turn in, too," Buffy said with a stifled yawn.

"Kay," Dawn replied as she set her empty glass in the sink. "You want me to wake you up if Xander calls from the hospital?"

"Definitely, but try to get some sleep, too."

With that, Buffy turned on her heels and climbed wearily up the stairs, feeling as if she had a 50-pound weight tied to each shoelace. Spike wasn't in bed when she returned to the room. Pricking her ears up against the silence, she made out the gentle sound of the shower running in the bathroom down the hall. Thankful that he was up and around, Buffy let herself collapse onto the bed with an exhausted _ooof_.

It was over, she realized in amazement, and they'd actually won. For so long, she'd prepared herself for defeat, and now that victory seemed within their grasp, she could hardly believe it. The world was once against safe for the unsuspecting populace, which was definitely cause for celebration – so why did she feel so down all of the sudden? As she picked at her chipped nail polish, she thought perhaps she was experiencing a mental let down after all the build up before the battle. Her mom used to talk about such a decline around Christmastime after the girls would finish tearing into their presents, but Buffy had never really experienced it after a battle. Her job was never really over, so there was no time to let her guard down. But now there were other girls to do her job – she wasn't as needed as she had once been. Perhaps Dawn was right, she thought. Maybe a change of scenery would be good for them both. Buffy thought maybe it might be easier to adjust to the change if it wasn't staring her right in the face everyday in the form of new Slayerettes. She made up her mind to talk the matter over with Giles tomorrow, or whenever he could lend her his ear.

Rolling onto her side, Buffy frowned at the clock. A good half an hour had passed since she returned to her room, and Spike had still not emerged from the bathroom. Exactly how long a shower was he planning to take? She could still hear it running in the background. There were still bills to pay and hot water to be saved for an exhausted Slayer who happened to have the same name as her. Wincing in pain, she rose from the bed and knocked on the bathroom door.

No answer.

"Spike? You okay in there? Should I send in the Coast Guard?"

Silence.

Buffy rolled her eyes dramatically, not feeling the slightest bit of patience at the moment. Finding the door unlocked, she barged in and said, "Sorry, you'll have to excuse my brashness. After an epic battle like today's, somehow I just really don't care about etiquette. It's a thing."

From behind the shower curtain, she detected the slightest bit of movement, but he didn't say a word in response to her entry. Sighing impatiently at the lack of reaction, she marched over and peeked behind the curtain. Shrouded in heavy steam, Spike stood with his fists pressed into the wall in front of him, head bowed under the water flow. She could feel how hot the water was from where she stood. The skin on his shoulders and neck was flushed red, the steady stream of scalding water burning him. His head turned slightly towards her, silently acknowledging her presence. The expression on his face surprised her. If she didn't know better, she could have sworn he was glaring at her.

"That bad, huh?" she said, trying to lighten the mood.

Pushing himself off the wall, Spike turned off the water and threw back the shower curtain in one smooth movement. Buffy watched wide-eyed as he stepped out into the muggy bathroom with an unabashed air she'd not seen from him since their affair last year. Unconcerned with his nudity, he snatched up a towel and scrubbed furiously at his sopping hair for a moment before wrapping it around his hips.

"Your burn looks like it's healed," Buffy noted, trying her best not to stare. It did, indeed. Thanks to Willow, it was no longer black and ominous looking; instead his chest had taken on an angry red hue. The burn looked no worse than anything he might have gotten from an accidental peek of sunlight. Still, she frowned at his decision to take a scalding hot shower with such an injury. "You okay?"

"No."

She glanced uncertainly in his direction, wondering why he sounded so angry with her. "Why don't you come to bed, then? You sound tired."

Spike turned around so quickly that Buffy drew back instinctively, afraid that he was about to strike her. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he seemed to rethink it. Stooping to retrieve his dirty clothes from the floor, he walked past her and out through the door.

"Not that way," Buffy called when she saw that he turned towards the stairs. "We have my room tonight. Faith is on duty with the others."

Once again, he didn't reply. The only way she knew he'd heard her was that he changed direction and headed for her room. He dropped his clothes carelessly in the doorway as he entered, obviously not interested in putting them back on.

Not feeling like having an argument, Buffy rolled her eyes again as she followed him into the room. She kicked his clothes out of her way and said, "Look, Spike. You're obviously pissed about something, so can you please just get it out so we can go to bed? I'm too tired for this."

"You shouldn't have done it," he said quietly.

"Done what?" she asked, holding up her hands.

"Saved me."

She chuckled in disbelief. "You're kidding right?" The glare he shot in her direction told her that he wasn't. "Look, I understand the appeal of the noble sacrifice – really, I do – but you can't seriously be angry with me for vetoing your choice? I didn't think it was necessary."

"That wasn't for you to decide," he snapped. "And yes, I am angry."

With a frustrated growl, Buffy scrubbed her fists over her face. "I can't deal with this right now."

"Then you bloody well shouldn't have asked what was wrong."

"What is with you?" she shot back. "All right, I get that you're angry, but you know what? It's done now. No going back. Don't you think you're acting a bit over the top here?"

Spike sat on the edge of the bed and placed his face in his hands. "I don't know what to think anymore."

Buffy edged closer and lightly touched the back of his neck, where the ends of his hair were curling as they dried. His skin was hot to the touch from his long shower. "You're probably just tired, like the rest of us," she said gently, frowning when she felt his back jolt with a bitter chuckle. "What?" she asked accusingly.

"Nothing," he muttered, shaking his head and her hand away from his neck in the process. "Everything's come undone, is all. Wasn't supposed to happen like this. Didn't even think I'd make it this far."

"Are you trying to say you knew that amulet might kill you?" she asked slowly.

"Course I did," he replied shortly. "Was pretty obvious if you ask me, what with all that _champion_ hoo-hah. They might as well have carved R.I.P. onto the back of the blasted thing, for all its subtleties."

"I guess I missed the memo," she murmured, feeling a strange twinge in her stomach. "I mean … you _knew_? And you still went through with it?"

His clear blue eyes blinked up at her questioningly. "Is that really so surprising?"

Buffy stared at her hands, unable to think of a response. Of course, she knew he had it in him to willingly make such a sacrifice – but to have been preparing himself for it for days? It _did_ surprise her. Looking back on all the things he'd said and done since she'd given him the amulet, Buffy realized how many of them had been Spike saying goodbye. She felt suddenly angry yet strangely proud at the same time. "I don't need you to save me, Spike."

"Who said I did it for you?" he asked calmly.

That caught Buffy off-guard. She wanted him to elaborate, but the statement seemed rather rhetorical. "Well, for what it's worth," she tried again, "I was really proud of you today."

Spike stared back at her with the same empty expression. "Is Anya here?" he asked, ignoring the compliment.

"Actually," she replied quietly, "I don't think she made it."

"That's a shame," he said, his face unreadable. "I needed to ask her a question. Wanted a second opinion on something."

Buffy's frown deepened. "That's all you have to say about her dying?"

"For now."

"Spike, would you _please_ tell me what's wrong?"

"Oh, didn't Willow let you in on the secret already?" he said with an incredulous snicker. "I'm surprised. She shot out of here fast enough."

"What secret?"

"Should have known when the light came," he muttered despairingly. "It didn't feel right inside – like something was lifting up and out of me. Now it's gone, and I don't know if I can get it back again."

Buffy had had enough of his cryptic monologue. "Either you tell me what's going on, or I'm going to find Willow."

"Would you like me to draw you a picture? _The soul's gone_, Buffy. Apparently went poof while I was busy channeling UV rays … or maybe when you ripped that amulet off my neck. Ta, pet."

Buffy's mouth fell open, but for several long moments, she couldn't seem to form any words. A few things clicked into place in her head, such as the minor but noticeable changes in his behavior. His eyes beheld her differently, too. His whole demeanor had changed from brooding and hesitant to angry and sexual. A million different scenarios flew through her mind – of Spike never being able to reclaim his lost soul; of him not even _trying_ to retrieve it at all; of her friends rejecting him and forcing him out of her life regardless of her protests; of him deciding she was no longer worth the sacrifice and returning to his old vampiric ways.

"Oh."

Spike snorted. "Bet you've got a lot more to say than that. Don't hold back now. Feel free to chuck me out into the daylight if you want. I'm past caring."

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped, his cheek helping her find her voice. "Just calm down, so I can think."

As she sat down on the bed beside him, he immediately rose and started prowling around the edges of her vision. "It's not like I don't want it back. Fought long and hard for my soul, I'll have you know. This isn't right."

"So … you're not feeling any murderous, driven-crazy-by-all-the-humanity Angelus urges, huh?" Buffy swallowed hard and said, "That's good."

"Not so much," he muttered, still pacing back and forth like a caged animal. "Though killing something would feel good right about now. I'll behave, though," he added defensively when she shot a glare at him. "Done it before, haven't I?"

"You don't even have your chip anymore," she realized, saying the words more to herself than to him.

Spike sighed and dropped down to one knee in front of her. "I got a _soul_ for you, you daft bint. I think I can behave myself for a little while 'til I get it back. Still love you, don't I?"

Buffy's shoulders visibly relaxed at his words. "I trust you. I don't know why, but I do. But please, Spike, don't slip and make me have to do something that would tear me up inside. I can't handle you going A.W.O.L. or _worse_ on top of everything else."

"What should we tell the others?" he asked quietly.

Buffy groaned at the prospect of countless Slayers knowing Spike was without a soul. Feeling a rush of fierce protectiveness, she said, "Not the girls. There's no telling what they'd do if they found out, with all that new power tingling in their fingers. But we should let a few people know – like Giles. He might be able to help. He took the amulet from me earlier, to study it."

"Did he, now?" When Spike lifted his head to glare at her, she experienced a pure moment of panic. She'd forgotten how intense his gaze could be – as if nothing else in the world was worth noticing other than her for that moment. All of the sudden, she realized how close he was and how little he was wearing. Heat still radiated off his water-speckled skin. She felt strangely intimidated by him, something she hadn't felt since she was first introduced to soulless Spike so many years ago, stepping out of the shadows behind the Bronze with that slow, sardonic clap. Familiarity had yet to settle in, and she was far from comfortable in his presence. But at the same time, she was struggling against excitement. As proud as she was of ensouled Spike and knowing how much she'd grown to trust him, there was still something about his soulless counterpart that wound her up like no one else could. She couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was – perhaps it was simply in their nature to be fascinated with each other.

Spike seemed to sense her distress, or perhaps he had picked up on her arousal. Either way, he didn't back off but leaned in closer. She shivered when she felt his breath on her neck; it trickled through her hair and down the length of her back, causing her to draw closer as well, even though she meant to back away. Her body was taking over, where her mind was too tired to put up a rational argument – and Spike seemed to realize it. He ran his fingers through her hair with a roughness that his ensouled counterpart would never even considered using with her.

"I've got a lot of facts floating around in my head right now," he said quietly as he studied her unguarded expression. "A lot of things I know I should be doing, and things I shouldn't even consider." His mouth found her temple, her heartbeat hammering against his lips as he spoke. "None of it makes sense anymore, now that the soul's gone. I know I shouldn't touch you … but I can't really remember why."

Rationale and confusion had long since fled, leaving only her raw feelings for Spike before her. "Why are you so determined not to give us a chance?" Buffy managed weakly as their cheeks brushed together. His skin was so smooth and warm … she wanted to touch every inch of it.

"I swore I'd never try anything with you again," he replied, inching back slightly as he said the words. "Not unless you asked me to or acted first."

"Oh. Well, then … let me help you." Sliding her arm around his neck, she brought his lips to hers in one fluid movement.

-----------------

To be continued.

**A/N**: If that kiss seemed unfounded to you, keep in mind that both Buffy and Spike are exhausted and coming off the edge of a huge battle that almost claimed their lives – so they're both slightly irrational. Add to that Spike's sudden lack of inhibition and all the sexual tension that's been building up between them during Season 7 … and there ya go.

The next part is NC-17, which I will not be posting here at fanfiction dot net because of their rules about smut. You can find it in the next few days over at my livejournal or webpage. Links to both can be found on my author bio page.


	4. Part Four

**Rating**: This part is NC-17, so I had to trim it down to R for fanfiction dot net. If you'd like to see the original version, go to my webpage or livejournal. Both links are on my author info page. This version doesn't show anything you wouldn't see in a rated R movie – so basically vague descriptions as opposed to details of the act. All the same, this part is not for kiddies. Skip this chapter if you don't feel you're mature enough to read it.

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_Part Four – Reunion_

"I swore I'd never try anything with you again," he replied, inching back slightly as he said the words. "Not unless you asked me to or acted first."

"Oh. Well, then … let me help you." Sliding her arm around his neck, she brought his lips to hers in one fluid movement. He let out a small moan of surprise but was quick to respond. Hands finding her waist, he pulled her onto his lap with her legs straddled on either side of his.

_This_, thought Buffy. She'd _missed_ this – dreamt about it guiltily ever since the first time they'd kissed so many years ago. No one could kiss like Spike. He made you feel as though you were the only person in the world worth a second glance, and he focused every bit of himself into proving it to you. Their kisses were hungry but lacking the desperate, vicious edge of those they'd shared the previous year. Buffy decided she liked the change very much. It seemed purer in motivation and intention, as if mere physical pleasure was no longer the main focus. But as the kiss continued, all Buffy's thoughts on the matter faded away into the colorless background – all she wanted to think about was him and the way his fingertips were tracing slow, deliberate circles down the small of her back. Something inside her ached for more. They lowered themselves as one body down onto the mattress, their lips never losing contact. She held perfectly still as his tongue slipped into her mouth, happily reacquainting herself with his deepest kisses.

Both pairs of hands began to roam. Hers found the curls at the back of his neck and tugged on them playfully before she slid her fingers down his bare back, kneading the firm muscles she discovered there. Spike began to pull at her clothing, not removing anything but obviously interested in doing so. She encouraged him by unbuttoning the top few buttons of her shirt, letting him deal with the rest as she yanked the towel away from his hips with boldness that surprised them both. With a quiet growl, he flipped her over so that she was lying under him. He tossed her shirt away and bent his head to suckle one breast through the thin material of her tank top. As she writhed beneath him, he grasped her under her arms and tugged her upwards so that she was lying fully on the bed, whereas before her legs had been dangling off of the edge.

They both gasped in pain when Spike tried to rest himself on top of her body. Neither of their wounds had yet to heal completely. Muttering a hasty apology between kisses, he eased her onto her side next to him, and placed one of his arms behind her neck to support her head while his other hand worked the zipper on her jeans. When he finally got them undone, his hand dipped inside to find her soft, springy curls damp with anticipation. She tensed in eagerness, but he drew his hand away. Licking slow kisses into her mouth, he pushed her jeans and panties down to her knees so he could get better access. Buffy continued to kick her clothes off as Spike's fingers began to tease her lower stomach. He traced slow circles down her abdomen, driving her mad with expectation. After what seemed like forever, he lifted one finger up to her lips and let her suck on it for a moment or two before bringing it down between her thighs. She moaned loudly against the side of his neck, her hips lifting off the bed. She squirmed helplessly, but was held so tightly by his arm that she could barely move from the waist up. The wound on her stomach hurt terribly, but the pain was secondary to the pleasure.

She bit his shoulder hard to keep from screaming when she came. He smiled down at her adoringly when he felt her body lock in pleasure, her face open and free of all the worries that had plagued her for so many months. Free at last from a store of built-up tension, her body went slack in his arms and melted happily against his.

"Needed that," she murmured, rubbing her lips sleepily across his chest.

"I know you did."

But once her pulse began to slow back down, Buffy felt a sudden rush of self-consciousness. His wet fingers were resting on her thigh, and she was hopelessly tangled up in the rest of him, various limbs intertwined. She felt his erection pressed up against her stomach and was suddenly very aware of both their nakedness.

"You all right?" he asked, tugging gently at the straps of her tank top, the last scrap of clothing on her body.

"Can we get under the covers?" asked Buffy timorously, trying without success to hide her discomfort. He released her then, but pulled her tank top over her head as soon as she sat up. As she tugged back the comforter, she felt his hands sliding gently over her bandaged stomach.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked as he slipped under the sheets.

"A little," she admitted, hesitantly watching him pat the mattress next to him invitingly. "I … I don't know if I can do this."

Spike studied her frightened expression suspiciously for a moment before tugging the comforter over his nakedness and reaching his hand out to her. "Stop looking at me like that, and come here. Just want to hold you." She let him gather her up to his chest, the bedding between their bodies. Immediately she felt better, finding the comfy spot under his collarbone where she had slept only last night. Her comfort zone reestablished, he tilted her chin up and kissed her lightly on the lips. "What got you so frightened all the sudden?"

"We're not falling into last year's patterns, are we?" she whispered. "Please tell me we aren't. It wouldn't be good for either of us."

Spike's face was void of emotion as he responded. "Does it feel like we are?"

"I don't know. I don't know how to tell. What's the difference?"

"How we're looking at it, I guess. Are you still out to use me and then toss me out? Gonna walk out on me as soon as the sun pops up?" He glanced over her shoulder at the sunlit curtains. "Well, as soon as it metaphorically pops up, at any rate."

"Wasn't planning on it."

"Well, there you go."

Buffy blinked up at him. "What about you? I wasn't the only one with the issues last year, you know. Is this still about obsession for you? _Doing_ a Slayer?" she asked boldly. "Or is it about love?"

"You know my answer to that. You just like to hear me say it," he replied teasingly as he smoothed her hair away from her face. "Love you more than anything. This isn't about possessing you, though I admit it might have been once upon a time. Just want to be with you."

She frowned skeptically. "Are you doing that guy-thing where you say what I want to hear just to get into my pants?"

"Technically, love, I think I've already gotten into your pants," he replied, wriggling his eyebrows at her bare bottom. That got a smile out of her, as well as two furiously blushing cheeks. "But what about you?" he continued, kissing the top of her head softly. "Is this about love … or about control?"

She knew it was a loaded question the minute he said it. What he was really asking was, '_Do you love me?'_ Buffy stared up at him, knowing that souled Spike would never have asked her such a bold question – would never believe her even if she told him she loved him and meant it. "I don't know. You tell me."

She meant her words as a teasing joke – a jab at how many times he'd insisted that she loved him in the past – but Spike seemed to really consider what she said. His eyes took in everything from the way she was looking at him to the way her hands were resting lightly on his chest. "Truth be told, I don't think you do love me," he replied at last. "But I think you could if you'd let yourself. The question is – will you?"

He didn't give her a chance to respond. His lips caught hers in a kiss once again, as his hands began to explore her body. Her breasts rubbed up against the cold material of the comforter that lay between their bodies, and she shivered as he began trailing kisses down the side of her neck.

"Would you stop if I asked you to?" she asked, testing him.

His mouth stilled on her pulse immediately, and she got her answer even before he replied. Spike might not have a soul anymore, but he'd learned a few lessons. "Yes, I would," he replied quietly. "Is that what you want?"

He started to pull away, but she stopped him. Her fingers tangled in his damp curls, holding his head against her neck for a few moments while she made up her mind. He nuzzled her lightly but didn't press in any other way. At long last, Buffy pushed herself up and off the bed. Spike frowned in her direction, thinking she was off to find herself a nightgown or somewhere else to sleep. When she swept over to her bedroom door, he thought it was over for sure, and was shocked when she twisted the lock in place and turned back towards the bed. His eyes swept down her lean body. Not even the bandage around her stomach could take away from her beauty. He watched as she pulled her hair down from the ponytail and shook it out so that it lay in soft waves over her shoulders and breasts. Then without so much as a word, she gripped the edge of the comforter and ripped it off of the bed. The sheet soon met the floor as well, and Spike was left leaning back against the pillows, wearing nothing but a mischievous smile.

"And here I thought you wanted to be under the sheets," he said.

Buffy crawled up the bed towards him, breasts swaying alluringly. "I lied."

-----------------

Afterwards, Spike soon fell asleep, breathing in his characteristic way. But Buffy was left staring at the ceiling with a mixture of shock and contentment, wondering what the heck had just happened. She hadn't exactly written "Sex with Spike – 5:00 pm" in her day-planner that morning. Even if she had, she still wouldn't have been prepared for how good it felt – or how _necessary_. She could still feel her lower abdomen pulsating with satisfaction.

Still, she was in a great deal of pain and ached in places that she'd long forgotten she had. Having sex with Spike while injured was nothing new to her, but still not among her favorite pastimes. Next time – _oh God, next time,_ she thought – would have to be under different circumstances. She was tired of being in pain. Their physical relationship would have to change if it was going to continue, and she suspected he would fully agree with her. She touched his burned chest gingerly, knowing he must be hurting as well. She tried to lift herself off of his chest, but he held her tight in his sleep, and she soon gave up. She sighed and tried to relax – but found no sleep the entire night, worrying about what in the world tomorrow was going to bring.

---------

To be continued. And wow, did I cut a lot out of this version. Sorry if it seemed a little choppy.


	5. Part Five

_Part Five – Decisions_

Having lain in bed awake for hours, Buffy was finally beginning to doze off when she heard the front door open downstairs. Giles and the girls were back from their mission, and from the pleased sound of their voices, they had succeeding in accomplishing something significant. Glancing over Spike's shoulder at the clock on her nightstand, she saw that it was around midnight. Part of her wanted nothing more than to curl up closer to him and doze, but curiosity over how the battle had gone won out in the end.

Spike had a troubled expression on his face when Buffy pulled herself out of his arms. She sat up and exhaled thankfully as she stretched her limbs out, glad to finally move after lying in one position for so long. She glanced down at her nakedness with a dumbfounded expression, still unable to believe how quickly they'd fallen into bed. She felt ashamed and embarrassed of the way she'd acted, but she'd be lying if she didn't admit that she was a little excited as well. Most of all, she felt unsure about what to do next. Although they'd spoken briefly about their relationship earlier, she still didn't know exactly where they stood now.

Buffy had already decided this wasn't going to be a one-time fling. One thing she was certain of – she wanted to be with Spike. But were they going to embark on another secret affair, or were they actually going to try for a real relationship? Were either of them even ready for such a big step? Her mind couldn't fathom how it could possibly work. Her friends hated Spike. Dawn was still wary of him and wouldn't talk to him. Giles and Principal Wood had planned Spike's murder. The new Slayers found him distrustful. Her father would probably disown her at the first sight of Spike's bleached hair and sneer. Buffy doubted even her mother would have approved of such a relationship, regardless of her fondness for Spike. Angel would … God, she didn't even want to _think_ about what Angel would do.

These were people who loved her. People she was supposed to trust to lead her in the right direction. What did that say about Spike?

Not to mention the fact that he'd lost his soul on top of everything else. A fresh wave of guilt washed over her. Granted, he hadn't lost it by any fault of his own, nor did he seem pleased about the situation – but the problem was still there. Swallowing with difficulty, she glanced back at him. He looked so innocent as he slept, dark eyelashes thick against his pale cheek. It was easy to forget the lives he'd willingly taken when she knew the goodness he was capable of. They'd forgiven each other so much, but was it foolish to hope that they could be happy together after all the hurt they'd caused each other? After everything they'd been through and everything they inherently _were_?

He wanted the soul back, but what if it proved impossible to retrieve? Should she continue to be involved with him? Again and again, logic implied that there was no possible way for their relationship to succeed, but since when was anything about Spike logical? He couldn't be judged that way. If anything, he was anti-logic embodied. He should be elsewhere, gleefully maiming and killing now that he was free from the crush of guilt and the entrapment of his chip. Instead he was asleep in her bed with sour pig's blood curdling in his belly. It didn't make sense. She couldn't ignore that sacrifice – though it seemed so small, for a hungry, injured vampire, it was huge.

Two scenes juxtaposed in her mind: the sight of soulless Spike lying peacefully in the bed beside her – and the night she first made love to Angel and brought about the rebirth of Angelus. The difference between the two vampires was startling. She always suspected that somewhere deep down, Angel must hate her, or Angelus would never have wanted to destroy her. Whether or not that was true or just a manifestation of her own personal insecurity was another matter. But Spike … he just seemed to love her no matter the state of his soul. It confused her terribly and cast a shadow over her feelings for Angel. Still, Spike was no saint. She knew what he was capable of if pushed hard enough.

_Spike is going to have to prove himself to me_, she decided in the end. _But this time, I'm going to give him the chance to do it. He deserves that much, after trying so hard to change. I can't ignore the fact that he doesn't have a soul, but I also can't deny that he's capable of love and the desire to make himself a better person. God, I hope I'm not making a mistake…_

A groan escaped her lips as she rose from the bed. Certain parts of her body tugged and pulled painfully as she reached for her robe. She thought about taking a shower – she certainly needed one – but the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs made her hesitate. Sure enough, the bathroom door shut with a thud a moment later. She sighed in frustration, unable to decide what to do with herself.

"Can't sleep, pet?" asked a groggy voice behind her.

Not turning around, Buffy quickly pulled the robe on to cover herself. "Not really," she replied quietly as she tied the sash, her eyes looking everywhere but in his direction. Did he really have to choose that moment to wake up?

"Where are you off to?" he inquired, pushing himself up into a sitting position on the pillows. "I think I'm going to have to start tying you down before we go to bed so you don't sneak off."

"Don't be silly," she said as pulled her hair up into a sloppy ponytail. "I heard Giles and the girls come home. I was going to go ask how things went."

"They can wait. Stay with me a little while longer." When she dared to glance at him, Spike held his hand out to her invitingly. Shaking her head, she backed away from the bed. "What was that you told me a few hours ago? Something about not running away from me after we made love, I think. We weren't going to fall back into old patterns, remember?"

She sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'm not running away. But I am a little freaked out, I guess."

Spike crawled over to where she sat and nuzzled the side of her neck. "Yeah?"

She nodded and allowed him to gather her backwards onto his lap. She closed her eyes and rested her head back against him. After over a year of shutting herself off to physical touch, she gladly soaked in every bit she could get.

"You want to slow things down?" he asked.

She chuckled. "Little late for that, don't you think? Besides, you're not the easiest person to say 'no' to – not to mention the fact that you don't listen when I do."

"I do, too."

"Do not."

"Do – ow!" he cried as she pinched his leg. "Well you're just as bad."

"Yeah," she admitted. "We should work on that."

Spike picked at the lint on the comforter. "I don't like it when you shut yourself off to me like this, Buffy. You just scamper off the second you get scared."

"I know, and I'm sorry," she replied. "I won't run away, Spike. I want to make this work somehow … but I have to work some things out in my head."

"Such as?"

"Such as the fact that you don't have a soul."

Jaw tensing, Spike fixed his gaze on the floor. "Didn't seem to bother you much earlier."

"Well, I'd be lying if I said it isn't bothering me now."

He looked up at her, blue eyes boring into hers intensely. "You _are_ my soul, Buffy."

She blinked at him. "That sounds like the lyrics from a lame Michael Bolton song. Possibly Celine Dion."

"I'm _serious_," he pressed. The look in his eyes caused any further remarks to die on her lips. "You make me want to be a better person. You make me feel guilty when I mess up, even though it's technically impossible for me to feel remorse. You've made me turn against my nature and willingly delve into your goody-goody, Golden-Rule driven world of Christmas and puppies. If that isn't a soul, I don't know what is."

For a moment, she couldn't think of what to say. She'd never really thought about it that way. "I believe you want to be a better person, Spike, and that amazes me about you. Do you have any idea how difficult you make my job as a Slayer? Every vampire I dust, I start to feel guilty, thinking about the path of redemption I might be denying them. But that isn't realistic. You're unique. One of a kind."

"Why do I sense a big 'but' coming soon?"

"_But_," she continued, "most people don't get that you're different. All they see is that you're a vampire, and all the other vampires they've ever encountered have tried to send them to the hereafter. Do you have any idea how people would react if they found out we're together?"

"Hate to say it, love, but I think most of them have figured we've been shacking up for the better part of a week."

"But they haven't actually heard it from _me_. We haven't come out of the proverbial closet."

Spike made a face. "Bad metaphor, pet."

"What I mean is that no one is going to say anything to us until we say something first. And then all their predictable arguments are gonna start coming – and you know what the real kicker is? They're _right_ – I shouldn't get involved with a vampire – but you don't fit that mold anymore. There's no way they're going to accept that."

"They might eventually," he offered. "You didn't use to be my biggest fan either, once upon a time."

"Uh, you mean 'once upon a month ago'? Okay, so maybe I've liked you a little longer than that." She sighed and put her face in her hands. "Maybe you're right. Maybe they will understand."

"Are you kidding?" scoffed Spike. "I was just saying that to make you feel better. If your Watcher doesn't stake me, Harris will."

Buffy nodded sadly. "Yeah."

"So we keep it a secret?"

"I don't know if I want to. Maybe we just act normal – the way we've been acting before we … _you know_."

"Made with the smut?" supplied Spike nonchalantly.

Trying unsuccessfully to suppress a blush, she replied, "That's one way to put it. Maybe everyone will just catch on, and we won't have to do the whole confrontation thing." She frowned as Spike burst into laughter. "What?"

"You," he replied. "You're adorably naive. But I suppose it's worth a try, though you can bet there'll be some confrontation sooner or later." Pressing his lips to the pulse on her neck, he asked, "So … does this imply actual couple-hood?"

Buffy swallowed hard – no going back after this. "I'm willing to try if you are." She looked up to see him smiling at her in wonder and adoration. She cupped his cheek affectionately. "But Spike?" she continued hesitantly. "I'd still like you to get your soul back. It … makes me feel safe."

Perhaps it was his imagination, but she thought she saw him wince. "Sure. I'll talk to Willow about it tomorrow."

"We should tell Giles, too," she said. "He can help us do research on the amulet."

A dark look crossed Spike's face. "You sure he can be trusted? You _do_ remember what happened a while back, right? Nice little assassination attempt, involving yours truly?"

"I know that he'll want your soul back in place," said Buffy. "And he told me earlier that he was wrong about you."

"Did he, now?" replied Spike suspiciously. "Nice little way to work himself back into high standing with you. Bravo, Rupert."

Her eyes drifted shut wearily. "Giles can help us, Spike."

"All right, then," he agreed, shaking his head unhappily.

Even as she leaned over to give him a kiss of reassurance, Buffy had the horrible feeling she'd hurt him with her words about his soul. But she didn't know what to do about it – it was the truth. In her mind, the sooner his soul was back in place, the better. Was he having second thoughts about getting it back?

When his hands moved to the ties of her robe, she gently pushed them away. "Not right now. I really want to find out what happened with Giles and the girls." She pressed one last kiss onto his mouth and rose from his lap. "I'll be right back, okay? You should try to get some sleep."

Obediently, he lay back in the bed, but she noticed his eyes followed her every movement as she hastily slipped out of her robe to tug on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Before she left the bedroom, he said, "I love you."

Her hand hesitated on the doorknob, and she smiled back at him hesitantly. The words '_I love you_, _too'_ formed on her lips, but she couldn't bring herself to actually say them. It seemed more like a reaction to the situation than something she really meant. "I'll be right back," she promised.

* * *

The hall and stairway were packed with excited girls, and the living room was brightly lit with smiles. "I take it things went well," said Buffy as she came down the stairs. 

"Not as well as they could have gone," Giles reasoned, looking more tired than she'd ever seen him. "The collapse was rather widespread, so it was difficult for us to get around the damage to patrol all the areas."

"Patrol?" echoed Buffy.

"We couldn't exactly go down into the crater, could we?" Kennedy said, not looking at them as she practiced spinning a stake in her hand. "So we waited for them to come to us."

Buffy frowned at her. "And did they?"

"There weren't many left, truth be told," replied Giles as he adjusted his glasses. "A sprinkling here and there. I imagine most were crushed in the collapse – not to mention the initial sweep of sunlight from the amulet."

Faith sauntered up and jabbed Buffy in the side. "I filled Giles in on what went down with Mr. Tall, Blond, and Moody. He kept buggin' me until I spilled."

"Yes, well, it was rather important that I know what we were dealing with," replied Giles coolly. "As I was saying, there weren't many Turok-Han remaining. Those that were left were leaderless and panicking, not to mention wounded."

"The hurt ones were the worst," said Vi with wide eyes. "They fought the hardest, if you ask me."

"Wouldn't you, if you were on your last limb?" asked Kennedy.

"Aww, c'mon, girls. That's what made it fun," replied Faith. "Not all of them were tough though. You would have laughed if you'd seen them, B. They were falling all over themselves, trying to get away."

Buffy suddenly wished she hadn't come downstairs. That old feeling of rivalry was beginning to blossom in her chest again. "So The First didn't show its face again?" she asked. "Whatever face that might have been at the moment…"

"Not so much," said Faith. "Looks like we beat it down for awhile. Too bad we can't kill it for good."

"I think we'd all feel better if that were possible," Giles added reluctantly. "But it seems as though we must content ourselves with a partial victory. I admit, I didn't even expect that until quite recently." Several people around him nodded in agreement. "But we must remain steadfast in our efforts. We don't know how many of the enemy escaped our notice tonight, and I imagine that earthquake opened up new areas of the Hellmouth."

"Gee, I sure love it when you get optimistic like this," said Buffy with a tight smile. "Makes me all warm and snuggly inside."

Giles smiled apologetically. "I try."

"So what are our new orders?" Kennedy asked, giving her stake one last flip before she tucked it into the waistband of her jeans.

"Little bit eager there, huh?" remarked Faith. "You like that new power rushing through your veins, don't cha?"

"Not bad," said Kennedy pointedly, "as long as it's not _misused_, that is."

"My orders are to rest tonight," said Giles quickly, keen to break up the scuffle before it started. "We will regroup tomorrow and discuss what's to be done. Understood?" Various nods went throughout the group. "Good. Now, off you go."

As the girls dispersed, Giles turned his attention towards Buffy. "The wounded?"

"With Xander," she answered. "He took them to a hospital out of town."

"Good – very good. Xander will need something like that to keep his mind off of Anya's death. I trust you were able to get some rest today?"

Buffy nodded, blushing furiously.

"You do look as thought you've recovered from your injury. Even your coloring has improved," noted Giles with an approving nod. "I wanted to let you know that I took the opportunity tonight to study that amulet a bit more. I had to stay in one location, you see, so the girls could find me for their orders. Just between you and me, it got rather dull. Well anyway, after studying the runes around the center jewel, I have a few theories about what it might be. I'll need to cross-reference some books to be certain, though."

"Really?" asked Buffy eagerly. "Because there's something I kinda need to tell you. I wonder if I should wait for Spike to wake up, though. It relates to what happened when he wore said amulet."

Giles frowned. "Spike?"

"You called?" said a sleepy voice. Buffy and Giles looked up to see Spike coming down the stairs, eyeing the second floor disdainfully. His disheveled hair curled wildly about his head, having not seen a hint of gel since his shower. Buffy noticed he wore the same clothes he had discarded on her floor after his shower and was thankful he'd bothered to put them on at all.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked softly, feeling suddenly shy in his presence – as if it was completely obvious what they'd been up to earlier that evening.

"You mean with the sudden rush of teenagers up the stairs and into the bathroom to scrub their pimples?" he asked. "Not so much. Thought we were having another tremor."

"Buffy says you two have something to tell me?" hinted Giles with a slight air of impatience. The fact that Spike had just descended from Buffy's room didn't seem to set well with her old Watcher. "Something that happened when you wore the amulet?"

Spike didn't so much as blink as he replied, "Soul's gone." Then he turned to Buffy and asked, "Any blood left in the fridge? I'm starved."

Without waiting for an answer, Spike turned and left for the kitchen, leaving Giles gaping in his wake. "The _blazes_…?"

"It's okay," said Buffy, lifting her hands up defensively. "I mean, _he's_ okay. I've already had the 'you-hurt-anyone-you-die' talk with him, and he seems fine with it. And look!" She gestured towards the kitchen with a too-bright smile. "He's getting blood! Blood that comes from a butcher. Animal blood. The kind that's not human."

Giles snatched his glasses off of his face so furiously, Buffy was surprised they didn't snap in two. "Need I remind you what happened when Angel lost his soul? The lives that were lost – not to mention the life of someone who was quite dear to me – because of your _persistent_ failure to see the situation for what it was?"

Buffy seemed to shrink in on herself. "It's not the same thing, Giles. Spike wants his soul back."

"Well, I don't think it's in the bloody kitchen!" spat Giles furiously.

"No, it wasn't," said Spike as he strolled back into the living room, studying a Tupperware bowl from the refrigerator curiously. "But I did find some leftover Mac 'n Cheese."

"Spike, _no_…" Buffy groaned as he shoveled a huge spoonful into his mouth. "That's _weeks_ old."

"Yeah. Got a nice zing to it now." Spike swallowed and turned towards the fuming Giles. "I've been thinking – mulling over in my mind exactly what happened down in the Hellmouth. I felt the soul up until Buffy ripped the amulet off of me." He helped himself to another mouthful of macaroni between sentences, ignoring Buffy's moan of protest. "Like maybe it relocated itself into the amulet or something."

"You're seriously interested in getting it back?" said Giles incredulously. "I don't believe you."

Spike eyed Giles carefully, showing the first glint of emotion since he'd come downstairs. "That soul belongs to me, Rupert. Why wouldn't I want it back?"

"Let me think. So you can rape, murder and pillage without remorse?"

Spike feigned a gasp. "Oh right! I'd quite forgotten. Do you think I could trot upstairs and have a go at the girls while they're brushing their pearly whites? So what if they're all _Slayers_? I'm sure they wouldn't mind donating a few pints." He scoffed and shook his head. "Be serious, Rupert. You think I'd try something around this lot? Not to mention the fact that _she'd_ kill me without blinking if I set so much as a toe out of line." He gestured at Buffy, who looked away uncomfortably.

"Yes, because she's been so hard on you with your mistakes in the past," said Giles, eying them both scornfully.

"Giles, _please_…" begged Buffy, pressing a weary hand over her eyes.

The anger on Giles' face melted slightly when he saw the way her shoulders wilted, but the glare he fixed on Spike had not diminished at all. "Forgive me, but I'm finding it rather difficult to trust you. Not with her or anyone else."

"Funny," Spike shot back, "it seems as if _you_ were the one who tried to have me killed. Behind Buffy's back, too. What was that you were saying about trust?"

"All right, already," Buffy snapped, stepping in between them. "Giles? If you don't like that Spike is without a soul right now, then help us figure out a way to get it back. Spike? Shut up. And if either one of you does something behind my back – and I do mean _either_ of you – then I am _through_ with you. For good, this time."

Leaving her threat hanging heavily in the air, Buffy spun around and huffed up the stairs. Giles and Spike watched her disappear from sight and then glanced at each other. Neither said a word, but the unspoken challenge between them was obvious, even to the girls who had begun filing down the stairs to bed down for the night in the living room. They ducked their heads together and started to whisper loudly. Shooting Giles a final glare, Spike dumped his bowl noisily on the coffee table and thumped up the stairs after Buffy.

----------------

To be continued.


	6. Part Six

**A/N** – This part almost got tacked on to the end of Part Five because very little plot lies within. But the last chapter got a bit long, so here we are – nice little filler chapter for ya. WARNING: There's sexual content in this chapter. Don't read it if you're under 17 years of age, mmkay? 

**Recap** – We left off last time with Buffy, Giles, and Spike having a disagreement. Buffy stormed off, up the stairs.

------------------------------------

_Part Six – Uncertainties_

When Spike reached the landing at the top of the stairs, he didn't find Buffy like he'd hoped. Instead he saw a bundle of aggravated Slayers talking animatedly outside the bathroom door.

"I can't believe she kicked us out!" exclaimed Kennedy, trying to scrub off the remains of a pea-green facemask with a tiny washcloth. "It's not like she was out there all night like we were."

"What's going on?" Spike quietly asked Rona, who stood on the outskirts of the group, shifting a toothbrush back and forth in her mouth.

"Buffy kicked us out of the bathroom," she answered, eying Spike with new interest – as if she'd just realized that he was a vampire, and she was now a Slayer. "She looked pretty mad."

Before Spike could respond, a bleary-eyed Willow popped her head out of her bedroom door. "Some of us are _trying_ to sleep here. Move it, or lose it! And I mean that literally."

"You heard her, guys," said Kennedy, throwing her dirty washcloth against the bathroom door with a thud. "Let's just go to bed."

Spike waited until the noisy throng had relocated themselves elsewhere before he knocked on the bathroom door. "Buffy? Come on, love, let me in."

He didn't really expect a response, but to his surprise, the lock on the door released a moment later. Spike entered before she could change her mind and locked the door behind him. The shower was running in the background, and Buffy was stepping out of her sweatpants. Her face was blotchy with the threat of tears. "If you so much as mention Giles, I'm kicking you out," she muttered.

"Wasn't even thinking about it," he replied, watching with interest as she bent over to retrieve her favorite shampoo from its hiding place beneath the sink. "Okay, maybe I was thinking about it a little – but I know better now, yeah?" He strolled up to her with a naughty smile and ran his hand lightly down her back. "Come on, lighten up. He just needed to get a little steam out. I think maybe you do, too. Any way I can help relieve some of that tension?" He tugged her close and dipped his head for a kiss.

"Would you _please_ brush your teeth?" Buffy groaned, turning her head aside. "No way am I kissing you after you ate that ancient macaroni."

"Kill-joy," muttered Spike teasingly as he released her. He rummaged through a cabinet until he found a large bottle of mouthwash. He took a sizable swig, swished it around furiously for a few seconds, and then swallowed the entire mouthful with a loud _ahhhh_. Screwing the cap back on the mouthwash, he smiled smugly and asked, "Better?"

Buffy gaped. "Do you enjoy grossing me out?"

"How was that gross?"

"You're not supposed to swallow it."

Spike frowned at the label. "Oh. Never knew that. Well, that explains a lot."

Rolling her eyes, Buffy pulled her t-shirt over her head and muttered, "I don't want to know." Carefully, she unwrapped the bandage from around her middle and eyed the almost identical wounds on her back and stomach in the mirror. Aside from a little redness, they were almost completely healed. When she glanced up, Spike was frowning deeply.

"That sword punctured you all the way through?" he asked. Though impossible for someone without a soul, she thought he sounded a little guilty, perhaps for handling her so roughly earlier in the bedroom.

She nodded in response to his question. Then without looking back to see if he had anything further to say, Buffy stepped out of her panties, threw back the shower curtain, and moved under the scalding flow of water. Though she closed the curtain firmly behind her, Spike predictably entered the shower a few moments later, having rid himself of his clothing.

His fingers lightly traced her hips from behind. "Never taken a shower together before."

"I'm not in the mood, Spike," she whispered, closing her eyes wearily as he licked a trail of water droplets from her shoulder.

"I know," he replied, picking up a bar of soap. "Doesn't mean I can't watch, does it? Maybe lend a hand while I'm at it?"

A moment later, she felt his soapy hands on the small of her back. She knew he was quietly inspecting her injury for himself since she wasn't inclined to talk about it. In time, his fingers worked their way around to the front of her belly to find the exit wound. Buffy felt minutely better when she realized his ministrations, however careful, didn't hurt one bit. She would have to remember to thank Willow the next day for the speedy healing.

"Look pet," he said in a low voice, "I know you don't want to talk about it, but I don't like seeing you so down. It was the bit Rupert said about that bird Angelus killed that upset you, wasn't it? I heard him from the kitchen."

"Her name was Jenny Carpenter," said Buffy emptily. "She was murdered because I couldn't bring myself to take care of Angelus. I let him run around killing and doing who knows what else for _weeks_, Spike. You should know – you were there. I couldn't see past the fact that I loved him."

"So Giles thinks you're doing the same thing with me, does he?"

Buffy stared hard at the shower wall. "Is he right?"

Spike pushed her wet hair over one shoulder so he could kiss the side of her neck. "No, he's not. Number one, I'm not out killing anyone. Number two, I'm _way_ more stable than Angel could ever hope to be – even with my crazy-in-the-basement stint factored in. And number three, you don't love me – so 'taking care' of me if I mess up isn't really a problem, is it?"

She spun around, eyes brimming with angry tears. "Do you really think I feel so little for you? It would kill me if you died, you … you _jerk_." She shoved him back lightly but heatedly.

Surprised by the intensity behind her words, he fell into a thoughtful silence. He gently massaged her shoulders with his soapy hands as she regained control over her emotions. A moment later, he added quietly, "I'm just saying, the two situations aren't the same – so you shouldn't feel guilty."

_Says the vampire with no conscience_, she thought silently.

"Easier said than done," she whispered as she watched the water swirl down the drain.

"Want me to wash your hair?" asked Spike, sensing a change in the subject would be beneficial to them both.

"I'm a big girl," she said with a shake of her head. "I can do it."

"Doesn't have anything to do with you being able to do it or not." He picked up the bottle of shampoo. "Please? We both know I'm not above begging, Slayer," he added teasingly.

Rolling her eyes, she pushed her hair back over her shoulders so he could access it easier. "All right. Geez, you're pathetic."

"You love it," he said with a smile.

She shivered involuntarily when she felt his hands tangle in her hair, palms thick with fragrant shampoo. It took a moment for the strangeness of the situation to fade away into something more comfortable and sensuous. One thing could be said about Spike – he knew how to use his hands. As he worked the shampoo into her hair, his clever fingers managed to ease away every bit of tension in her neck and even down her shoulders. Lips forming a soft smile, her eyes drifted shut in contentment.

"Like that, baby?" he murmured.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized Spike was probably the only person in the world who could call her 'baby' and make it sound sexy instead of something from a bad Patrick Swayze movie. "Yeah. Feels nice."

Gentle hands guided her under the water flow to rinse the shampoo out. Afterwards, he worked the cream rinse she'd handed him into her hair, and she found herself shivering yet again. She marveled that he was able to make her feel so aroused just by the simple act of touching her hair. As he combed his fingers through her locks, she picked up the bar of soap and turned to face him. Reaching her arms around him, she ran soapy hands down the muscled length of his back and decided she liked showering with Spike very much. It was the perfect excuse to touch every inch of him – and that was exactly what she planned on doing.

Eyes glinting at her adoringly, he guided her back under the water to rinse out the conditioner. When she emerged, he smiled and leaned down for a wet kiss.

Buffy licked her lips. "Mmmm, you're all minty fresh."

"Oughta be. Been misreading mouthwash directions for decades."

He grinned when he heard her giggle, a sound he'd not heard in months. Slipping her arms around his neck, she pulled him down for another kiss, longer this time with more intent lingering behind it. Every trace of her worried thoughts had obviously fled for the moment, leaving other things on her mind. Spike's eyebrows rose when he felt one of her hands slide down his chest and lower. Pulling away from the kiss, he smirked mischievously and said, "Still not in the mood, huh? Well, I should probably just slip out of here then, and let you finish your shower in peace."

"Don't you dare," she said, bringing his lips back to hers before his laughter had a chance to ring out. She moaned approvingly as he trickled one hand up her side and moved to cup her breast in his palm. He rubbed slow circles around her nipple with his thumb while his other hand slipped between her legs.

"Now," she breathed against his mouth. "I'm ready."

With a shake of his head, he evaded her grasp for his erection and stooped to his knees. She gasped as he splashed hot water onto her pussy and then slowly licked every drop off. His tongue lightly traced the slit of her opening, purposely ignoring her clitoris until she gripped his hair and held him against her. He chuckled and found her sweet spot, kissing the warm flesh around it like he would kiss her mouth – wet, open-mouthed kisses that made her writhe. His hands encouraged her to spread wider for him as he tongued her. She moaned as he splashed her again with water followed by a series of slow licks – and then he did it again and again until she was close to screaming. A small part of her mind was warning her to keep quiet, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember why silence was a good thing.

After what seemed like forever, he placed his hands firmly on her waist and picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he pressed her against the shower wall, bending his head to slowly lick droplets of water off of her breasts. She reached between them and wasted no time in guiding his erection to her entrance.

Pressing forward until he was snugly inside her, Spike caught her earlobe playfully between his teeth. "Reminds me of the first time we made love."

Gasping as Spike began a slow, steady pace, flashes came to Buffy's mind of him pressing her up against the wall of a collapsing building – thrusting in and out of her at the same sharp angle. "Don't talk about that," she said breathlessly. "This isn't last year. I don't want what we had then."

"No arguments here, but let's not let the memories spoil our fun, yeah? Know you like this position."

"Can we please stop talking?" she begged, digging her fingernails into his back when he hit a particularly good spot.

Spike chuckled. "For once I won't take that as an insult."

Conversation dwindled after that, and both became lost in the moment. He was right, she realized – she _did_ like this position. She enjoyed that he was able to hold her up without the slightest bit of effort. After spending so much of her life being the strong one, sometimes it was nice to feel small and delicate – just so long as Spike knew in the end who was boss, of course.

Foreheads resting against each other, they moved together, not in perfect unison but in an unfocused, grinding desperation that had them both gasping for more. Pale blue eyes fixed her with a stare that she found she couldn't break – didn't want to break. More was said between them during that gaze than with all the words they'd ever spoken to each other. For the moment, nothing else existed.

The brooding Watcher downstairs, troubled by thoughts of a missing soul and a seduced Slayer, was the farthest thing from their minds.

----------------

To be continued.

Hmmm, I didn't edit anything out of this smut scene. I hope I won't get in trouble? If it's too detailed, let me know, and I'll replace it with a tamed-down version.

**A/N** – I trust everyone has picked up on my blatant use of water symbolism in this story, right? You'll definitely see it again. :)


	7. Part Seven

_Part Seven_

Buffy and Spike slept right through breakfast and would have snoozed the afternoon away had their stomachs not started growling in protest. They emerged from the bedroom a little after noon, bleary-eyed and hungry, but not groggy enough not to notice the entire household staring at them curiously. Dawn greeted them with a knowing smirk, and Willow pretended to be engrossed in her lunch. Giles glared at his steaming cup of tea, refusing to look at either of them as he fumed silently. The Slayers were giggling and whispering in conspiratorial tones while Faith chose the more direct approach.

"Damn, B. You sure know how to pick 'em," she said. "Why don't you share with the rest of us?"

"Were we that loud?" asked Buffy under her breath as she sat down next to her sister with a plateful of food.

"Are you kidding me?" replied Dawn incredulously. "I learned more about sex last night than from all mom's old romance novels combined."

Buffy gaped in horror, unable to decide what bothered her more: the fact that everyone had heard Spike and her last night, or that Dawn actually knew something about sex. Fueled by her furious blush, the other girls at the table continued to snicker.

"Excuse me," Andrew interjected defensively, Hot Pocket in hand, "I don't think it's very nice to be laughing. I mean, they've come through so many trials and tribulations. It's a total Mulder and Scully scenario, people. It's Season 8, and they've finally consummated their doomed love. So what if it was off-camera? We should still respect it."

Unable to stifle it any longer, the Slayers burst into laughter. Spike rolled his eyes, pulled out the mug of blood he'd put in the microwave to warm up, and headed for the living room without a word.

"Spike?" called Willow after him. "Giles and I needed to talk to you and Buffy about the, um, _research_ you asked us to do?"

His groggy mind took a long moment to figure out what she was referring to, but at length, he nodded and said, "I'll be in the living room when you're ready. It's a bit crowded in here, if you catch my meaning."

Watching him leave with mixed feelings, Buffy bit off the corner of her sandwich and chewed mechanically. Though starving only moments before, she suddenly found she'd lost her appetite. "Anything happen while I was sleeping?" she asked her sister.

"Xander came home," replied Dawn through a noisy mouthful of potato chips. "He's upstairs asleep in Willow's bed." She snorted and said in a low voice, "You should have heard Kennedy complaining about _that_. I give her and Willow, like, one week before they call it quits."

"You won't hear me complaining," agreed Buffy. "Tara was one thing, but _yeesh_. Anyway, how's Xander? Last time I saw him…"

Dawn nodded. "He's … quiet. But I think he'll be okay. You should go talk to him after he wakes up."

"Yeah, I definitely will. The wounded?"

"All in stable condition," recited Dawn, as if she'd had to do it multiple times already that day. "All except Principal Wood. He's still in ICU, but the docs think he'll be fine after a few days."

Buffy let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "Good to know. I feel horrible, but I've barely thought about them since the battle ended."

"Yeah. Well, a lot's happened. Give your mind a little time to catch up."

Buffy looked sheepishly at her sister. "So you're okay with it? With me and Spike, I mean."

Dawn thoughtfully crunched on a chip before she replied. "Haven't decided yet. I'm still getting used to the fact that he has a soul."

Feeling what little remained of her appetite dwindle, Buffy set the rest of her sandwich on her plate and pushed it away. She didn't think she had it in her to tell her sister the truth about Spike just yet. "Willow, Giles? Want to have that research meeting now?"

Giles, who was drawing out patrol schedules for the girls, nodded silently, and Willow rose to set her dishes in the sink. "Can I come?" asked Dawn hopefully.

Buffy hesitated. "You should probably sit this one out, Dawnie. We've got some pretty serious issues to talk about."

Dawn's eyes shifted to Giles' stern face. "You're gonna get chewed out about Spike, huh? Too bad I have to miss it. Might be fun."

Buffy tugged her sister's hair teasingly. "You listen in, and I'll make you regret it. Got that?"

Though obviously disappointed, Dawn nodded and didn't protest when Buffy left to join the small group in the living room.

Buffy found Spike seated on the couch, boots on the coffee table. He took a noisy sip of his blood. "Oy, be a love and pass the remote."

"Meeting now, _Passions_ later," said Buffy, nudging his feet off of the table and onto the ground before she took a seat next to him. He wisely didn't put his arm around her as Giles entered the room.

Giles removed his glasses and carefully avoided Buffy's gaze as he cleaned them. "I took the opportunity last night and this morning to look further into the matter of the amulet and its effect on the, erm, _individual_ who used it yesterday."

Spike smirked. "Sticks and stones, Rupes."

"Spike…" said Buffy warningly. "What did you find out, Giles?"

"Absolutely nothing," replied Willow as she entered the living room, bringing a stack of books over to the coffee table.

Buffy frowned. "But Giles said last night he had a few theories. He just needed to check some books or something."

"Check some books, we did," confirmed Willow, "and we found a whole lotta nada."

Giles shook his head in frustration. "I can't understand it. I know for certain that I've read about such an amulet before, but I can't find mentions of it anywhere."

"Well, can't we just find other books? Willow, you could do the internet thing and—"

"Already did," said Willow. "Nothing – which is really strange, if you ask me, considering the amount of information on the internet."

Giles picked up a dilapidated book and flipped through its ancient pages. "Buffy, this amulet should be mentioned in the texts before you. I'm absolutely convinced of that."

"So what are you saying?" asked Buffy, her frown deepening.

"Giles thinks knowledge about it has been erased or hidden somehow," explained Willow.

"Like a concealment spell?" suggested Spike.

"No," said Willow with a shake of her head. "If Giles is right, this is something different. Bigger and way more powerful than any concealment spell I know of. I mean, the entire internet has even been affected. And I'd be able to pick up magical traces if a simple spell was at work here."

Spike rubbed his chin. "It would still be a supernatural force, though, yeah?"

"Probably, but like I said, something big and powerful. No way could one little witch pull this off."

"So someone's hiding information," said Buffy. "Okay, fine. But didn't you have some theories already, Giles? You said you remembered reading about it in the past."

Giles sighed. "It was a long while ago – back when I was studying to become a Watcher. But I distinctly remember it being tied to The Apocalypse."

"Well, I guess that would make sense," reasoned Buffy. "We practically had one yesterday."

Giles shook his head. "You don't understand. You all use the term 'apocalypse' so lightly, as if it defines any sort of significant battle. But I'm talking about _The_ Apocalypse. The one referred to in Revelation."

"So the amulet has a part to play in the battle to end all battles," said Buffy unenthusiastically. "That sounds … fun. What else do we know?"

"Not much," said Willow apologetically.

"Angel gave you the amulet, correct?" asked Giles.

"Yeah," confirmed Buffy, "but he didn't know much about it either. Just that it was supposed to be worn by someone with a soul who was more than human. A champion, he said."

Giles eyed Spike distastefully. "Yes, well that's not much to go on."

"We could call up Angel to find out if he knows anything else," suggested Willow. "He could do a little research of his own, I imagine. He must have gotten it _somewhere_, after all."

"All right, hang on just a sec," interjected Spike. "The issue here is my missing soul, yeah? So shouldn't we just concentrate on that instead of bringing The Grand Poofbah into this?"

Willow sighed. "That's the thing, Spike. I did a little, uh, 'soul searching' this morning while you were still asleep." When Spike's eyebrow rose, she quickly explained, "I was just trying to find out what happened to it – where it went."

"And?"

She pointed at the amulet in Giles' hand. "It's in the center jewel."

"It seems as if your speculation last night was correct," said Giles. "Your soul was indeed trapped in the amulet somehow."

"Now we have to figure out how to extract it," explained Willow, "but I don't even know where to start. We don't know the full purpose of the amulet. For all we know, if something happens to it, his soul could be lost for good. Spike could even be tied to the amulet now. If it was hurt or destroyed, well … it might not be good for Spike's physical well-being."

"Not to mention that this situation might be tied to The Apocalypse," added Giles.

"_The_ Apocalypse," teased Willow. "Emphasis on _The_, right Giles?"

"What I'm trying to say is that we don't know what this event might signify. In short, we need to find out what this amulet is very soon. Someone obviously doesn't want us to know – someone very high up in power." Giles suddenly turned on Buffy and Spike. "And I must say how very shocked I am that you two chose to implement such a weapon without knowing anything about it – without even consulting anyone first. I hope you both see now how foolish your actions were."

Jaw clenching angrily, Buffy shot back, "If Spike hadn't used it, we might all be dead, and _The_ Apocalypse might already be well underway. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a phone call to make."

Rising from her place on the couch, Buffy picked up the cordless phone and headed for the stairs. Frowning, Spike started after her, more than happy to leave the fuming Watcher behind. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked as they thumped up the stairs and down the hallway. "Can't call him with anyone else present?"

Buffy sighed as she opened the door to her bedroom. "Angel's number is in my address book, which is in my desk."

"Surprised you don't have it memorized," muttered Spike, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched her rummage in her desk for the small book.

"Jealousy. How original. You _do_ remember last night, don't you? When we – oh, how did Andrew put it – consummated our love? I would think you'd be a little less insecure."

"I might be if I hadn't seen you and Peaches n' Cream snogging not two days ago."

Buffy made a face. "What is that? 'Snogging'? I don't _snog_."

Spike rolled his eyes and took the phone away from her. "Buffy, you call Angel, and it's gonna spell bad news for us."

She let out a slow breath, trying to understand Spike's anxiety. Maybe all he needed was a little reassurance. She tugged him close, but he avoided her attempt to kiss him. "Angel had his chance with me, Spike," she said gently. "He left."

Spike winced. "So I'm in your bed just because I'm the one who's still around? Because I'm convenient?"

"No, you're in my bed because I want you there. Because I trust you, and yes, because you're still around. In case you didn't know, that's a good thing. You didn't give up on me, Spike, and I won't forget that. And _you_ will be the only person I snog – whatever that means."

Spike handed over the phone unhappily. "Make it quick, yeah? I'd like to test that theory."

"Alone."

A scarred eyebrow rose. "Come again?"

"I want to talk to him alone."

"No way in hell. This is my soul we're talking about here."

"I'm not going to be able to get a word in edgewise with you hanging over my shoulder, calling him names every two seconds."

"I would _never_…" he protested vehemently.

"I already said I trust you, Spike. If you don't trust me, that's something you're going to have to work out on your own."

"No," he disagreed. "It's something you're going to have to prove to me – just like I had to prove it to you."

His words cut into her, and she blinked back sudden tears. "I can't prove it to you if you don't give me the chance."

Spike sucked his cheeks in. "Fine," he said, turning on his heels and storming out of her room.

She glared at his retreating form, angry that he was making her feel guilty over a phone call she was making for _him_. She dialed the L.A. number before she could talk herself out of it and was surprised when Angel himself picked up on the first ring. He usually had a secretary for that sort of thing. She felt a twinge in her stomach – a familiar twinge she often felt when in Angel's presence.

"It's me," she said quietly.

"Buffy," gasped Angel. "The battle with The First, it—"

"—went fine," she finished for him. "We won. Punched a nice, big hole in the Hellmouth while were at it, too."

"I saw. On the news, I mean. We felt the earthquake here."

"That was compliments of the amulet. It did a lot of things, in fact – some less pleasant than others."

"You wore it, then? I wasn't sure if you would use it."

"Spike wore it, actually," she said hesitantly. She wanted to mention Spike as little as possible during this conversation, for all their sakes.

Angel didn't respond.

"That's actually the reason I called," she continued. "The amulet, I mean. We need to find out more about it – like where you got it from."

Another uncomfortable silence.

"Angel, you there?"

"I don't know much," he said quietly. "Giles couldn't find anything about it in all those dusty books he hoards?"

"It seems as if someone wants to keep knowledge about it under wraps. We can't find anything."

Angel sighed. "Somehow I don't find that surprising, considering who gave it to me – and the fact that _I_ was suppose to wear it."

She purposely ignored the bitterness in his pointed comment. "We need to find out everything possible about it."

"What'd it do to him?"

Buffy shifted uncomfortably. "I'd rather not say. He's okay, if that's what you're asking."

"It's not."

"Look, I know you and Spike have history, but _I'm_ the one asking you to do this. Don't do it for him – do it for me."

"Truth be told, I'm not inclined to do it at all. You chose not to involve me in that battle. You chose to give Spike the amulet. And you can bet he wouldn't be stretching his neck out to help me even if I had worn it."

"_I_ would help you," replied Buffy quietly. When Angel didn't respond, she said, "You know what? Spike and I can handle this. If you can give me the name of the person who gave it to you, we'll go to L.A. and do the work ourselves."

"You come to L.A. – and we'll talk. Just you and me. Leave Spike in Sunnydale."

"He's part of this, too."

Angel sighed. "Come to L.A., and we'll talk," he repeated. "I'm not promising I can help – there's been a lot of changes around here – but I'll try. Happy?"

Buffy frowned, trying to understand what it was about their past that made Spike and Angel turn into self-righteous bastards at the mere thought of each other. This was going to be one difficult trip. "We'll leave at sundown. Thanks," she said with unenthusiastic shortness before she hung up.

Covering her eyes with her hands, she leaned back against her pillows with a frustrated growl. She loved Angel – or at least her inner 16-year-old did. He was everything the storybooks said she should want – tall, dark and handsome. He even had the mysterious, brooding puppy-dog act down. But add to that his air of superiority and a propensity to abandon people when things got rough – and suddenly the storybook ideal didn't seem so appealing anymore. She knew deep down that Angel was no good for her. She also knew that she shouldn't have led him on by kissing him and telling him all that cookie dough mess the other night. But she'd be lying if she said she didn't think about him often. She missed him and what he used to represent to her. How she was going to survive this trip to see him with Spike in tow was beyond her. It was confusing enough before adding a second vampire to the equation.

She rose and went downstairs to tell the others the plan. "We decided I should go to L.A. to look into things," she said when she rejoined the group, carefully avoiding Spike's gaze as she spoke. She had a feeling his glare was rivaling even Giles' at the moment.

"I imagine _Spike_ will be accompanying you?" Giles bit out the name like a curse word.

Before Buffy could respond, Willow cut in. "Of course he will. They're together, right? Besides this whole amulet thing kinda concerns him. Be kinda silly to send Buffy by herself."

Buffy stared at Willow in surprise as the redhead winked at her behind Giles' back. "Yeah. That was the plan," said Buffy.

"Do you think he's entirely safe to take into such a large city, soulless and chipless?" protested Giles.

"Yes, I do," replied Buffy. "Spike isn't Angelus. I'm surprised his behavior since he lost his soul hasn't already persuaded you of that."

"If he goes through with the process of restoring his soul, I might be easier to persuade on the matter. All the same, I don't feel it's wise to take him outside the watchful eyes of so many Slayers. I don't trust him alone with you."

"Well, I do. I trust him with my life and with yours. If you don't give him a chance to prove himself, why would he even want to try? Deal with it, Giles. I'm going to pack. Spike? We leave as soon as the sun sets." Turning around, she was up the stairs before anyone could say a word.

------

To be continued.


	8. Part Eight

**A/N**: I feel like I've been a little hard with Giles in previous chapters. This first little bit is there to let the readers know that the Giles in my story isn't really a bastard – he just truly cares what happens to Buffy. 

--------------

_Part Eight_

Giles thought Buffy looked rather pale as she packed her suitcase. Unaware of his presence, she hummed an off-key melody to herself. Watching her from the doorway, he found himself smiling despite the unpleasant situation in which they'd found themselves. Giles wanted nothing more than to mend their relationship, but this business with Spike was making that difficult. It was adding additional weight to the strain of their already deteriorating friendship, not to mention upsetting her trust in him. Giles didn't want that. He loved Buffy like a daughter – something he would never have in the real world – and that self-ordained responsibility was not something he took lightly. Even if his choices hurt her, his true intent was only for her well-being. He hoped she understood that.

Tossing a pair of socks in her suitcase, Buffy glanced up and spotted him. Her voice was wary when she greeted him, as if she didn't know exactly what to expect. "Hey."

"Hello," replied Giles, striving for a gentler tone he hadn't used with her in a long time.

She looked away, busying herself with packing as she spoke. "Look Giles, I don't want to fight anymore. I just-"

"I don't either," he cut in. "I still have more to say on the matter, to be sure, but I don't think this is the time to say such things, as we're both weary. For now, I've just come to give you this." He held out the amulet, carefully nestled in a handkerchief. The center jewel caught a glimpse of sunlight from the window, causing Buffy to flinch. "You'll want to be very careful with this artifact. It's older than it looks."

She accepted it gingerly. "It's …warm."

"That would be the presence of Spike's soul, I imagine. It's stayed that temperature consistently since it's been in my keeping."

She ran a thoughtful finger over the harshly cut lettering encircling the jewel. "I'll be sure to take care of it," she replied as she folded it in the handkerchief and carefully placed it in her overnight bag. When she noticed that Giles was still lingering at her side, she smiled tightly and said, "Is this the part where you tell me repeatedly to be careful and not to trust certain vampires, ensouled or not?"

He glanced down at his feet almost apologetically. "You do understand why I'm hard on you at times, don't you?"

She shrugged. "Look, I get the whole father figure routine, and really? It's nice to have someone like that around." When she looked at him, it struck him anew that her once softly rounded cheeks were gone. The face that smiled up at him was leaner and stronger than he remembered. "I'm not a little girl anymore, Giles. I love and respect you, but I need to figure some of this stuff out myself."

Giles returned her smile sadly and slid his hands into his pockets. "Have you ever looked at Dawn and felt helpless, watching her make all the mistakes you made long ago?"

"Sometimes. But how else would she learn?"

"When was it exactly that you became so sensible?"

"Well, I have been watching _Oprah_ with Andrew. Lots of life lessons to be had there."

"Ah," he said with a chuckle. "Well, that mystery is solved."

"Giles, I'm not going to make the same mistakes that I did when I was sixteen," she added. "Trust me on that."

He nodded, and they exchanged smiles, comfortable in each other's presence for the first time in many months. Buffy took the opportunity to breach a rather sensitive subject. "So, um, since we're having this nice little surrogate father-daughter chat thing, do you think I could ask you for a favor?"

"Dear Lord, this can't end well…"

"Do you think we could take your car to L.A.?" she asked nervously.

Giles gaped at her. "Are you mad? Absolutely not."

"_Please?_ How else can we get there if we don't take your car? Xander needs his to go back to the hospital later. Don't you want to get this over with?"

"Can't you take your mother's monstrosity on wheels?" suggested Giles, scanning her sunlit bedroom helplessly as if the peeling wallpaper contained the answer to his problem.

"It died last year," she replied as she folded a tank top and placed it in her suitcase. "We never had the money to get it repaired, and no one ever drove it anyway."

"If I can be completely honest without fear you'll turn your wrath on me, I'm not certain I want my car in the hands of someone as reckless as Spike."

"I could drive it," Buffy suggested brightly.

Giles grew pale. "Erm. Well, maybe I _should_ give Spike the benefit of the doubt in this situation…"

"I'm not _that_ bad of a driver…"

"Tell that to our insurance company," said Dawn as she entered Buffy's room. "After she got in that accident before she had her license, they refused to cover her."

Scowling at her sister, Buffy turned to peer at Giles sheepishly. "I'll make sure Spike takes extra good care of it."

"I admit, I'm more worried about him taking care of you than my car," replied Giles gently. "Buffy…"

"Spike and I are going to be fine," she cut him off. "If something goes wrong – _and it won't_ – I can handle him. He knows that, and he's not going to do anything stupid."

Giles shook his head in defeat. "I'll get my keys and give them to him myself."

"Keys? Where are you going? Nobody said anything to me," said Dawn, glancing at the overflowing suitcase in surprise. Buffy told her about the L.A. trip, and Dawn's mouth fell open in disbelief. "You're _leaving?_ That's so not fair!"

Giles cleared his throat and backed away towards the door. "Excuse me. I'll leave you two alone to, um…" Leaving his sentence unfinished, he quickly shuffled out of the bedroom.

"What about what we talked about yesterday?" continued Dawn angrily. "You said we could leave the Hellmouth."

"No," corrected Buffy, "I said I would think about it. And you were talking about a permanent relocation. Spike and I are only going to be gone for a few days at the most."

"Then take me with you. I can't stay here anymore with all these people. I'm going crazy."

Before Buffy could reply, Spike entered the bedroom, wearing a troubled expression. "Any idea what Rupert wanted? He asked to see me when I passed him in the hallway. Said he had to get something first. Didn't like the sound of that."

"He's lending us his car," replied Buffy. "He probably just wanted to give you the keys."

Spike's eyebrows rose in surprise, but he said nothing more on the matter. "Sun's almost set. All packed, then?" he asked, woefully observing the gigantic suitcase and travel bag weighing down the bed. "Didn't know we were gonna be gone for a year or two."

"No high maintenance jokes, please. I haven't even packed my shoes yet."

"Oh, for the love of…"

"You could use _my_ suitcase for them," fumed Dawn as she crossed her arms over her chest. "It's brand new – never been used, seeing as you never _take_ me anywhere."

Spike glanced wearily at the two sisters, ducked his head down, and busied himself with zipping up the overflowing suitcase.

"Fine, go pack already," said Buffy, throwing her hands up in resignation. "Spike, Dawn's coming with us."

Dawn's face broke into a bright smile, but when her eyes shifted over to Spike, that feeling of joy faded a bit. She suddenly realized that accompanying Buffy on this trip meant she would also be in close quarters with Spike – and there was still a world of awkwardness there.

Spike nodded in reply, not meeting either pair of their eyes as he hefted up the heavy suitcase. He sulked out of the room without a word.

"Is he mad at you or something?" asked Dawn quietly. "Or me?"

Buffy shrugged as she fished in her closet for shoes. "Me, more likely. I don't think he's thrilled at the prospect of seeing Angel. It's not like I asked if it was okay with him."

"What's going on exactly? With the amulet and Angel, I mean. No one's really told me much."

Buffy sighed and pushed her hair out of her face as she stood, one arm full of shoes. "You should ask Spike that. It's not really my place to say anything."

"I don't think he wants to talk to me."

"I'll bet he's probably thinking the same thing about you. He asks about you all the time, you know."

"Yeah, right," Dawn scoffed, kicking her toes at the ground.

-------------

Peeking out from the safety of the curtains, Spike watched what little he could of the last beams of sunlight trickling down the horizon. As much as he loved this time of day – when the sun was gone, but the sky remained somewhat blue – he felt unsettled and discontent. The prospect of seeing Angel alone was enough to seriously make him consider whether Buffy was worth it all. Of course she was, he knew – but did she really have to include the Foreheaded Wonder in their affairs? Angel could have given her that information over the phone, but he chose to ask Buffy to L.A. instead. The grand intervention on Buffy's behalf was already underway. Spike doubted that he was on the guestlist by choice, and he knew what was coming next. He would be made out as the soulless killer who could never deserve what Buffy had to offer while Angel donned puppy-dog eyes and a quivering lower lip. Spike could almost hear Barry Manilow cooing in the background, ready to seduce his Buffy with promises of an ideal future that was both impractical and impossible to achieve. His grandsire was a master of manipulation when he wanted to be.

Granted, Spike had to admit he was a manipulator, too – but _he'd_ never used Barry Manilow against an innocent mind, so who was the _real_ villain in this scenario?

Then there was the matter of Spike's soul, the reason for making the trip in the first place. He did want it back – but not for the same reasons Buffy did. He felt the soul belonged to him, like it completed him. In contrast, Buffy wanted it in place as a safeguard. Considering her past with Angelus and her job title as Slayer, he couldn't blame her for thinking that way – but couldn't she see that he was different? Why was it so important to her sense of safety that his soul be in place? Sure, he'd screwed up more times than he could count, but he had _changed –_ and most of those changes had nothing to do with the soul and everything to do with his love for her. Regardless of what she said, Spike knew that Buffy didn't understand that, deep down. It went against everything she'd been taught.

While part of him did want the soul back, he'd be lying if he didn't admit he was having second thoughts. How would Buffy react if he told her that? She couldn't possibly comprehend what a weight it was, or how it tortured him. Spike shook his head in frustration, feeling as if he was between a rock and a hard place.

But he would do it. For her. God help him, he would do anything for her. It was pathetic, he knew, but he didn't care. Buffy gave him purpose, which was something his inherent nature did not provide. She gave him a reason to better himself – just for her – not for anything he stood to gain aside from her happiness and trust in him. Where there once was only a raging bloodlust and a painful desire to love something but not really knowing how, now there _was_ something to love – something pure and worth fighting for. That was what made him different from the innumerable, single-minded vampires that populated the earth: he wasn't content with blood alone. He never would be again, now that he'd tasted the beginnings of true acceptance. Yes, he _would_ get his soul back for her. And if he had to go L.A. to do it, so be it. Hell of a lot closer than Africa, though he doubted he would find the locals as amiable. Angel was going to be a significant obstacle.

Spike suddenly sensed a presence behind him, pulling him out of his thoughts. He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling when he realized who it was.

Giles cleared his throat and held up a set of keys. "If you so much as scratch the paint, I will personally scatter your ashes about the face of the earth."

Spike smirked. "A proper funeral? Rupert, you spoil me. So what's the catch?"

"No catch, but I do expect you to act responsibly on this trip. I'm placing a lot of trust in you right now. If Buffy is correct, and the chance to do the right thing is what you need, then this is it." Giles handed over the keys and looked Spike dead in the eyes. "You come back with your soul in place, and you will have done something no other vampire in history has ever dared to do. Not even Angel."

"Got my soul once before. Doesn't that count?"

"Considering your propensity to rush blindly into rash decisions, I doubt you knew what you were getting yourself into," Giles replied. "But if you choose to restore it now, fully understanding the pain that comes with it – well, that would be something remarkable in my book. You bring her back to me, unharmed in _every_ sense, and then you and I might be able to reach a personal understanding."

"Don't know how much I care about a personal understanding," said Spike, pocketing the keys. "But I'll bring her back."

----------------

The sky was completely dark by the time they pulled out onto the highway. Spike had the car going 80 miles per hour in less than five seconds, ignoring the girls' pleas to slow down. His dark mood had worsened by the time all their luggage had been loaded, and it spread through the car like a shadow. An uncomfortable silence settled in, especially when Dawn put on her headphones and pulled out a GameBoy, leaving Buffy and Spike free to talk on their own.

Buffy watched him out of the corner of her eye, wondering what song was going through his mind as his thumbs drummed on the steering wheel to a tune only he could hear. "Mad at me?" she asked in a low voice.

Spike roared past two cars before he replied. "Not mad."

"What then?"

Spike shook his head in response, which Buffy knew to mean that he was lying and really _was_ mad at her. She didn't have the energy to care and chose to let him brood in silence. It occurred to her that Spike was every bit as moody with the soul as he was without it. Having Angel and Spike together was going to be a barrel of laughs. She just hoped everyone survived it. Having Dawn around was probably a good idea, Buffy decided. Her sister might help the boys to behave themselves.

Buffy eyed Spike with annoyance as he pushed the car past 100 mph and honked at a slower moving vehicle in his way.

Who was she kidding? Spike wasn't going to behave himself for anyone.

"So," began Dawn loudly, unable to hear her own voice over her blaring Discman. "If you guys are having sex again, does that mean I get my own hotel room? Because … ew?"

Buffy clamped a hand over her eyes. "Is the concept of tact completely lost on you?"

Dawn popped her gum loudly in Buffy's ear. "Pretty much."

"I was hoping we could stay with Angel. He has that whole hotel, you know. It'd be way cheaper than staying somewhere else. So yeah, there will definitely be separate rooms."

Dawn looked scandalized. "You and Spike sleeping together under Angel's roof? I'll believe it when I see it."

"We're staying with _Angel_?" sputtered Spike, suddenly interested in talking. "You didn't tell me _that_."

"It's kind of the obvious thing to do, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I'm sure he's just giddy at the thought of me sleeping down the hall from him. He's probably got one of those skeleton keys that lets him into every room – gonna murder me in my sleep. Mark my words, he's planning to be dancing on my ashes come morning. You ever seen him dance, Buffy? Enough to make a grown vampire dust _himself_. Man, I can't believe this…"

"There's no real reason for him to try to hurt you. I didn't tell him anything about your … situation," said Buffy, carefully sideswiping the issue of Spike's soul, which Dawn knew nothing about.

Spike blinked at her curiously. "He doesn't know?" Buffy shook her head in reply as she frowned deeply at the speedometer.

"Doesn't know what?" echoed Dawn.

"Nothing," answered Spike and Buffy in unison.

Glancing up from her GameBoy, Dawn smirked mischievously. "Ten bucks I figure it out before we hit the city limits."

---------------------

The roadside diner was so hazy with smoke, Buffy didn't even scold Spike when he lit up a cigarette while she and Dawn ate dinner. At least the nicotine seemed to calm his nerves a bit, and he became more amiable as the meal went on – though he did make a terrible fuss when he heard the country music blaring from the crackling speaker system.

"I can't believe this music," grumbled Spike as he lit his third cigarette in twenty minutes. "Bloody awful. Moodier and more self-indulgent than Angel, even."

Buffy smirked as she speared a forkful of salad. "Kinda like you, huh?"

Spike shot her the evil eye and blew smoke in her direction.

Ignoring him, Buffy peered despairingly at her sister's choice of dinner. Dawn was dipping hot, gooey French fries into her chocolate milkshake. She popped the combination into her mouth with a look of bliss.

"That's the most disgusting thing I've ever seen," said Buffy in revulsion.

"It's _so_ good," insisted Dawn with wide eyes. "You're totally missing out."

"She's right," said Spike, stealing a fry and dipping it into Dawn's shake. "Stuff's brilliant."

"Hey!" protested Dawn. "Get your own!"

"Why do that when I can just eat yours?" he asked with his mouth full, smirking as he reached for her plate again. Dawn smacked his hand lightly but had an affable look glinting in her eyes when he got away with a few fries anyway.

Buffy smiled curiously at the two of them, wondering if she was seeing a hint of their old camaraderie return. The thought made her feel happy and relieved. Pursuing a relationship with Spike would be much easier if Dawn was okay with it. Sensing a moment or two alone might further the mending of their friendship, Buffy pushed her salad away and announced she was going to the ladies' room before they left. True to form, Dawn refused to abandon the rest of her French fries to join her. She remained behind with Spike.

"So when did you lose it?" asked Dawn conversationally through a giant mouthful of food.

Spike tipped his coffee cup up, draining the last grainy drops before he asked, "Lose what?"

"_Duh_, your soul." When she saw the surprised look on Spike's face, she added, "What, you didn't think I'd notice? Told you I'd figure it out."

The empty coffee cup hit the table with a clank. After a moment, Spike dug a crumpled ten-dollar bill out of his pocket and tossed it over to her. "Clever girl. How'd you know?"

Dawn stuffed her monetary reward into her jeans. "You look me in the face now, for one thing. Buffy knows it's gone, right?"

"'Course she does. Why do you think we're going to L.A.? Isn't for pleasure, believe you me."

"Buffy said something about that wonky amulet you wore in the Hellmouth. You guys needed to do some research in Angel's library or something."

"_Or something_," said Spike, fingers tapping on the table anxiously. "My soul's nestled up all snug in that sodding thing. Gotta figure out a way to get it out."

Dawn studied him inquisitively. "So you actually want it back? You're the weirdest vampire ever, you know."

He shrugged and looked away. "Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't."

"So why the rush to do it? You seem fine. If fact, I think you killed more people when you _had_ the soul. Maybe you should just leave it in the amulet."

"Funny," deadpanned Spike. "Buffy thinks it's important. Doing it for her, same as the first time I got it. Love's bitch, remember?"

"How could I forget?"

"Makes her feel safe, she says." He sighed and brought his cigarette to his lips for a long, thoughtful drag. "Guess I can't blame her."

Dawn dipped another fry into her shake and said nothing.

"Guess you feel the same way, yeah?" he asked.

"Doesn't really matter what I think or feel," she answered, not looking at him. "We're not friends anymore."

"No. Guess you're right about that."

Dawn watched his shoulders slump and a dejected look form on his face. "But my sister loves you, so I'm willing to get along if you are."

He eyed her carefully. "Like to get along with you, too, pet, but I'm afraid you're wrong about that first bit. Your sis doesn't love me. If you're looking for a reason to put up with me, you're going to have to find another one."

"_Please_," scoffed Dawn. "You're either really stupid or kinda dense."

Spike cocked an eyebrow. "Isn't that the same thing?"

"I'm just sayin'…"

But before they could continue the argument, Buffy returned, wiping her wet hands off on her jeans. She wore a troubled expression, as if the restroom she'd just emerged from had disturbed her greatly. She gestured towards Dawn's diminishing plateful of fries. "Come on, eat 'em or leave 'em. We've got to go. If we head out now we can be in L.A. in an hour."

Spike blew a long trail of smoke from his lips as he stood. "Oh, good-ee…" He dropped a few bills on the table and tugged on his duster.

Scooping the rest of her dinner into a napkin, Dawn smiled proudly. "Looks like you owe me ten bucks," she said to her sister. "I figured out that Spike's soul went poof."

Buffy glanced at Spike, a surprised look on her face. "You didn't tell her, did you? She really did figure it out?"

Spike nodded, and Dawn grinned smugly. The two of them exchanged winks when Buffy resignedly handed her sister a ten-dollar bill.

------------------------

To be continued. Feedback?


	9. Part Nine

**Previously**: Spike, Buffy, and Dawn are traveling to L.A. in hopes of finding out more about the amulet that robbed Spike of his soul. Angel is awaiting their arrival.

**A/N**: I have no idea how far apart L.A. and "Sunnydale" are supposed to be, so I guesstimated about 4 hours. So if they left at sunset (let's say a little after 8, judging from the time of year), that would put them pulling in about midnight. And yes, I am a dork for actually putting thought into that. ;)

Also, a note about Angel. I like the guy, okay? But this story needs an antagonist, and he qualifies. Don't get upset when you see him being less than pleasant, okay? It's not because I have anything against him as a character. Promise. :)

-

_Part Nine_

Glancing up from a handwritten page of directions, Buffy touched Spike's shoulder and pointed towards an upcoming street. "Hyperion Hotel – right there," she said. "Remind me to thank Willow for the easy-to-follow directions."

"Finally," moaned Dawn, squirming uncomfortably in the backseat. "My butt is totally numb."

"TMI, Dawnie," said Buffy. "Though just between you and me, mine is, too."

Spike sniffed as he glared at the hotel. "Always did overcompensate for his short comings." He turned towards Buffy and smiled congenially. "But I guess I don't have to explain that to _you_."

Buffy gasped dramatically. "He spoke, Dawn! How long has it been?"

Squinting through the dark at her watch, Dawn replied, "2 hours and 23 minutes since his last sentence – a sentence being defined as a noun and a verb, that is. I didn't count one-word responses and growls."

Spike growled at them both as he pulled up in front of the hotel to drop them off. "Looks like I'm going to have to find somewhere else to park," he said. "Sure we have to stay here?"

"Free rooms equal happy Buffy wallet."

"Spike's right," complained Dawn as they got out of the car. "Staying here is a bad idea. Let's just go to Vegas or something."

"Thought you were all numb in the rear," said Spike as he patted his jacket, looking for his smokes.

Dawn shrugged. "Nothing a little gambling wouldn't fix. I've got twenty … I mean _ten_ dollars to blow on the slot machines."

"And quite a few years until you're legal," reminded Buffy as she pulled her bag out of the trunk. "I've got an idea. Why don't we all just agree to be optimistic about this trip? Yay happy, and all that? It'll make this all a lot easier."

"I've got a better idea," said Spike. "Let's break into Granddaddy Forehead's room and sully the sheets."

"Ptttb, gag, barf…" muttered Dawn, rolling her eyes towards the sky. "Can we go in now? The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can take me to Vegas."

Spike pecked Buffy on the lips. "I'll go park the car. Very slowly, I think. No saying your famous 'hellos-with-tongue' in there, got it?"

-

The Hyperion was in a state of complete disarray. Boxes overflowing with files littered the lobby floor, mixed in here and there with various artifacts and weapons. It appeared as if everything was in the process of being packed away, though Buffy couldn't imagine why. Was Angel Investigations relocating? If so, why hadn't Angel mentioned it before? Choosing their steps carefully, she and Dawn made their way back towards the office.

"This place is really cool and really disturbing all at the same time," whispered Dawn.

"Why disturbing?" asked Buffy as she sidestepped a large battleaxe sticking out haphazardly from a cardboard box labeled 'Angel's Office'. "You've seen weapons and wonky demonic relics tons of times. You grew up around them."

"Reminds me of a hospital – one of those wards where they've had to scrub unmentionables off of the floors and walls many, many, many times." Dawn paused and thought. "Kinda like Spike's old crypt."

"Hello?" called Buffy as she peeked her head into Angel's office. At least, she _thought_ it was his office. It wasn't as if she'd ever been there before – she was operating by guesswork alone. A desk stood alone in the room, but it was barren of almost everything save a few crumpled pieces of paper and a chewed pen cap. A lamp and a simple wooden chair stacked with more boxes were the only other things in the room. "Where is everyone?" she wondered out loud.

"It looks like they're moving," said Dawn. "Maybe they're out, taking a load of this stuff over to a new place."

Before Buffy could respond, she heard a noise behind them in the lobby. She thought for a moment that it was Spike, back from parking the car – but a moment later a slender brunette popped her head into the office, wearing an infectious smile and a sloppy ponytail. "Can I help you?" she said in a Southern accent, softened around the edges by the West coast influence.

Offering her hand, Buffy quickly introduced herself and Dawn. They learned that the young woman before them possessed the unlikely name of Fred and was part of Angel Investigations. "Any idea where we might find Angel?" asked Buffy. "He was expecting us sometime tonight, but we didn't give him an exact time."

"He got called out on business," explained Fred, "but he'll probably be back soon. Before dawn, I'm sure…" Her words trailed off as she spotted something by the lobby doors.

Buffy and Dawn followed Fred's gaze. Spike was back from parking the car and was leaning over a box with an infuriated look on his face. He pulled out a beautifully engraved broadsword from the clutter and cried, "This is mine! Gave it to me on my first demon kill. The bloody bastard!"

"Uh, can I help you, sir?" asked Fred, looking distinctly nervous.

"He's with us," said Buffy apologetically. "That's Spike."

"Or William the Bloody," said vaguely familiar voice, "depending on who you're asking."

Buffy turned to see that her old Watcher-for-a-day, Wesley, had also entered the room and was staring at Spike with educated interest. Her eyes just about bugged out of her head. Since when had the squeaky clean Watcher turned into a Harrison Ford-esque hottie? He was all scruff and leather – and the shadows contouring his lined face screamed of an angst-ridden past that would make any sensible female weak in the knees.

"Hoo boy," murmured approvingly Dawn beside her. "I think I'm gonna like this place."

"Don't even think about it," warned Buffy under her breath.

Spike noticed Wesley's scrutiny and asked, "Do I know you? More importantly, do I care if I know you?"

"No, but I've read a considerable bit about you," answered Wesley. "Had Angel not disclosed your associations with Buffy to me this evening, I fear I might not be quite as welcoming."

"Spike's okay," said Buffy reassuringly. "Really."

Wesley turned towards Buffy, his expression a mixture of distaste and intrigue. "Angel mentioned something about an amulet. Do you have it with you, by chance?" Buffy nodded.

"You can't beat Wesley when it comes to ancient relics," said Fred.

"Hold on a tick," protested Spike. "Why give it to him? I don't know him from Adam."

"He's my old Watcher," explained Buffy as she dug in her bag for the amulet. "We can trust him."

"Oh yeah. Because the Council of Watchers had proved itself so trustworthy in the past…"

Wesley smiled tightly. "Would it help you to know that I was dismissed?"

"Know another Watcher who was 'dismissed'. Don't like him, so don't get your hopes up, Percy." Spike crossed his arms over his chest and sulked as he watched Buffy hand over the amulet. "You'll want to be careful with that," he said to Wesley. "Let's just say I'm personally invested in the blasted thing, so don't do anything to it without letting me know, yeah?"

Wesley's brow creased in perplexity. "I assure you I'll take excellent care of it. If you'd like, you can come with me to the back. My books and research materials are there."

Dawn turned to Buffy, a pout forming on her face. "Do I have to come?"

"How about I give you a room upstairs?" suggested Fred. "I think I'm gonna turn in, myself."

"Perfect," said Dawn with a smile. She turned to Buffy and said, "I'm outta here. Happy researching."

-

"This is ridiculous," said Wesley, his voice thin with frustration. "I can't find any mention of the amulet in these books. Not a single reference. And if I know these books as well as I think I do, it _should_ be here."

Buffy's shoulders slumped. "That's what I was afraid of. We had the same problem in Sunnydale."

Wesley thumbed through some loose pages of text and spotted something after a few moments of silent study. "Ah, look here. I believe I've found the origins of the amulet's markings at least. It's in an ancient demon language dating back to just before the birth of Christ. Judging from this text, the amulet seems to reference the Egyptian god, Ra."

"Sun god, right?" asked Spike. "Makes sense, what with the lightshow and all. What else does it say?"

Wesley's expression sobered as he continued to compare the amulet to the text. "Tell me, what did the amulet _do_ exactly?" he asked.

"A good question," said a new voice.

Buffy glanced up and saw Angel hovering in the doorway, arms crossed tightly over his chest. "You're here…" she said, suddenly feeling a knot of nervousness in her stomach.

"That, I am," he said with a tight smile. "Buffy, could I talk to you alone for a minute?"

Beside her, Spike visibly tensed and looked ready to launch into a fistfight, but Buffy placed a steady hand on his shoulder as she rose. "I'll be right back, okay?" she said reassuringly. "Tell Wesley what happened to you. I think it'd be best if he knows the whole truth."

-

Angel slammed the office door behind them, and the sound echoed through the lobby. "I can smell him on you, Buffy," he snapped. "I know what you've been doing."

Buffy looked uncomfortably around the hotel lobby, trying her best to avoid his furious gaze. _So much for saying hello_, she thought. She led Angel away from the office door, knowing Spike would probably try to listen in on their conversation. "I really don't see how that's any of your business."

"Is that a fact?" Angel chuckled. "Do the words _cookie dough_ mean anything to you? It was only a few days ago that you told me you were all half-baked and whatnot. And that is _still_ the stupidest metaphor I've ever heard, by the way. Tell me, Buffy – do you like making promises you don't intend to keep? Do you like leading me on?"

"I never promised you anything," she retorted, "but I guess did lead you on a bit. I'm sorry, okay? Things just happened sort of fast."

"Wow. That's great. I'm really glad you're so torn up inside over all of this – but there's still the little matter of it being _Spike_ you're sleeping with. The other day, you said he was in your heart, not your pants. And don't tell me this isn't my business because it damned well is."

"He's a good person."

"He's a _thing_," Angel corrected.

"Then so are you," Buffy shot back. "I've made my choice, Angel. You're going to have to deal with it if you still want to be a part of my life."

Angel shook his head angrily. "So what is it exactly that he gives you that you can't find somewhere else? That you can't find here, with me?"

"Well, let's see … where do I begin? Consistency. Reliability. Trust. Yeah, trust is a big one. Failure to abandon me when things get rough. Oh, and then there's the fact that he got a soul. Just for me, by the way – did you know that part? No curse involved. Nope, he went completely against his nature to change. And you know, it's nice that he's still the same person every morning. And isn't it funny how even though he's lost his soul, he didn't change his name to Spikelus and try to destroy the world?"

Angel stared. "He lost his _what?_"

Buffy's mouth fell open when she realized her slip. "Um. Oops? Can you just rewind and forget I said that?"

"What do you think?"

Clamping her hands over her eyes, she sighed in defeat. Spike was going to kill her. "It's why we're really here. He lost it when he used the amulet, and we need to figure out a way to get it back."

"He wants it back?" asked Angel in disbelief. "You're sure he's not lying?"

She shrugged. "He's here, isn't he? And I gotta tell ya, Angel – that's a lot more than Angelus ever did for me. So forgive my choice of lovers, okay? I have my reasons."

"So do you love him, then?" he asked quietly.

The question caught her off guard, and she hesitated for a long time before answering. "Truthfully? I don't know. Sometimes I think I might. And you know what? Those are the only times I've been happy these last few months."

"Happy is something you'll never be with him."

Buffy shook her head. "I think you're wrong about that."

"You know I'm not happy about this, but I'm going to help you out with your problem anyway. But he's not staying here. You and Dawn, fine. I don't care. But Spike? No way in hell. Get him out of my hotel."

"Angel, like it or not, Spike and I are a couple. I want him here with me. And how can we figure out all of this amulet mess without him? It won't kill you two to be under the same roof."

Angel clenched his teeth. "Fine, he can stay. But I want him in a different room than you. Or do you just like rubbing my nose in all of this?"

Buffy softened a bit when she saw the dejected look on Angel's face. "All right. Different rooms, it is. But I can tell you right now, Spike isn't going to be happy about it."

"Then he's not happy," Angel said. "He'll get over it."

The office door opened, and Wesley and Spike filed out. "Get over what?" asked Spike with a dark expression on his face.

Buffy glanced wearily at Spike. "I'll tell you in a minute. What'd you guys find out?"

"Not much," said Spike, his eyes practically burning a hole in Angel's forehead. "Whole lotta nothing actually, but Percy here's got a plan."

"I suggest we take our research to our new offices tomorrow," said Wesley. "They have books and other resources there that no other library could offer. I'm sure we can find something."

"Did you tell Wesley what the amulet did to you?" Buffy asked Spike.

"Yeah. Why do you think he was so keen on leaving the office so soon? I imagine you told Gramps here? His face is shrinking by the second, closing in on itself. That means he's pissed."

"Gee," said Angel. "Whatever could I be upset about?"

"Enough, you two," said Buffy. "I don't want to hear it. Let's figure out what we're doing and get on with it."

Wesley glanced cautiously at the two scowling vampires. "I second that plan. But unfortunately, nothing can be done tonight, I'm afraid."

Angel nodded. "We'll regroup tomorrow and head over to Wolfram and Hart. I'd like to ask a few questions to some people there, anyway. They were the ones who gave me the amulet to begin with. What happened to Spike was supposed to happen to me."

"Wolfram and Hart?" echoed Spike. "The _law firm_?"

Angel crossed his arms over his chest. "What about it?"

"The _evil_ law firm?" Spike elaborated. "Grrr, nasty?"

"That's all changed now," Angel said quickly, seeing the look that flashed across Buffy's face. "In the meantime, there are some rooms open on the second floor you can sleep in. Need me to see you up?"

"That's okay," Buffy said, holding her hands up.

"Yeah, really. That's okay," repeated Spike scathingly.

Angel shifted his eyes slowly in Spike's direction. He obviously had a few things to say, but whatever was on his mind, he kept it to himself. "Goodnight, Buffy," he said in a short voice. He and Wesley turned and left the lobby without another word.

"Good riddance," muttered Spike. "The fumes from his hair gel were starting to make me dizzy."

Buffy punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Could you have possibly acted less mature?"

Spike considered her question as he stooped to pick up her suitcase. "Yeah. Probably."

"You're funny," she muttered, snatching the luggage away from him, preferring to carry it herself. "Listen, Spike, there's something you need to know about our rooms."

"Rooms? As in plural rooms?"

Buffy sighed as she punched the elevator button. It opened with a strident _ding_, and they stepped inside. "Angel wants us to stay in separate rooms while we're here."

"He _what_?" barked Spike.

"It's not that big of a deal," she argued. "We've been sleeping in the same bed for what? Less than a week?"

"It _is_ a big deal. How can you think otherwise?"

"You can deal without sex for a night or two," she snapped.

"This isn't about sex, Buffy. It's about you letting your old flame separate us two minutes after we arrive."

"Oh, please. I had to admit to him down there that you and I were sleeping together. I wouldn't exactly call that letting him separate us."

The elevator door opened, and Spike stormed out, shaking his head angrily. "Call it what you will, but mark my words. Angel's got a plan formulating in that thick skull of his. He's going to try to come between us any way he knows how."

"You're being paranoid."

"No," he retorted, stopping in front of an open door. "I've just known him longer than you have. I know the way he thinks."

Buffy dropped her suitcase on the floor and sighed. "_One night_, Spike," she said, gripping the lapels of his jacket and tugging him close. "I promise I'll be thinking about you."

Spike stared down at her, looking older than she'd ever seen him. "I love you, Buffy," he said quietly. "Love you with everything in me, but you need to know … it's not impossible to lose me."

Buffy's face softened. "Spike…"

But he'd already pushed her away and retreated into the room. The door closed in her face, leaving her alone in the hallway.

-

The end.

Okay, I'm lying. How about a "To be continued" instead? ;) I've already got a good bit of the next chapter written, so an update shouldn't be too long in coming.


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